Skip to main content

Full text of "The diary of a lady-in-waiting"

See other formats

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 
to make the world's books discoverable online. 

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 

Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 
publisher to a library and finally to you. 

Usage guidelines 

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to 
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 

We also ask that you: 

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
personal, non-commercial purposes. 

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the 
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. 

+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find 
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of 
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe. 

About Google Book Search 

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 

at |http : //books . google . com/ 



University of California. 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 



Digitized by 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 


V c:ha. 

;. '^i' Cm: 

i \ I :■ 

.•; :x :■■' 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 






Digitized by 








Printed by Ballanttnb 6* Co. Limitsd 
Tavistock Street, Covent Gardea, London 

Digitized by 



Carounb Amblu Euzamth op Bruk8wick»Wolfbn- 
BUTTBL^ QuBBN OF Gborob IV. Fr9m a fainHng 
ty Sir TUmas Lstornce. (PhotograTure) FrmtH^iece 

Prihcbss CharIiOttb. From 4m eMgrm^img hy WiiRam 

Fry after afoiMttng by Sir Tbamas Latamce To/mttprng* 28 

CouNTBts Oldi. From 4m iMgravrng by T. Upright Mfter 

A. IVtveU „ 130 

Lady Ankb Hamilton. From an iagraving „ 160 

Lady Hbrtford. From a mezs^oHat ,, 256 

Princess Amelia. From aa engraving after a miniamn 

by J. 7(obertson ,, 284 

Lady Hamilton as a Sibyl. From aa engraving after 

a fainting by Madame Lebmn ^ 338 

QuBBM Carounb. From a fdnting by Samnel Lane „ 396 

Ladt Charlottb Bury. From a Rthog^aph by Alexan- 
der ^Idkleyy refrodnced by permission of the Artists 
fiumly „ 460 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 



Rome, Tuesday, 2yd of November. 

E) and Lady W. Bentinck are arrived ; a cir- 
cumstance which gives me pleasure, for they 
are both agreeable and friendly people. 
This day I did penance, in the way of leaving 
visiting cards at the doors of all my acquaintance. Why 
will people not " do at Rome as they do at Rome ** ? 
why will they not dispense with the petty ceremonies 
of etiquette, which are allowable in other great towns, 
but which take up too much precious time here, and 
are quite at variance with the occupations and interests 
which ought to employ mind and time in this classic 
city. Who that has ever inhabited Rome, does not feel 
a pride and a pleasure in tracing the word ! how many 
remembrances does it not recall ! how the heart expands, 
and the stature seems to dilate, and the tongue to cry 
out " anch io son Romano ! " Yes, who that has trod 
these sacred stones, does not conceive themselves in- 
vested with the denizenship of the city of the world ! 
Though for centuries every pen has eulogised, and every 
heart has echoed the praises of the eternal city, still an 
inexhaustible fund of interest remains for ages yet unborn, 
to expatiate upon, to analyse, and to enjoy. 

I| I A 

Digitized by 



The life of Rome is a life apart from the rest of exist- 
ence ; and for that very reason I pronounce it dangerous ; 
for it is a parenthesis in existence which, however beauti- 
ful, Ufe might be completed without ; and when it is past, 
a preference to it is apt to create distaste for all that is 
lessTexciting. Fortunately, however, there is an instinct 
implanted in the human heart which, like that which is 
felt for a disagreeable relation, still draws the afiection 
to home and country ; and in that common feeling 
shared by all, an equivalent exists in the long run, which 
makes amends for the want of more vivid sensations. 
Yes ! repose, and not excitement is conducive to true 

I employed m3^elf in the evening, reading Lord John 
Russell's life of his ancestor Lord William Russell. 
The preface is modest, dignified, and forcible ; the 
narrative is lucid ; and the style is tmaffected, and devoid 
of ornament, yet elegant. It is like the author. How 
much the sobriety of a sensible Enghsh book strengthens 
and refreshes the understanding, especially when we have 
lived some time in a dearth of English Uterature. 

I Lord [ ] called on me. Misfortune has done him 

good]; he is not so sulky or morose as he once was ; 
one even forgets the past, to be sorry for his present 
distress and wandering life. 

Wednesday t z^th^Novetnber. — ^Accompanied [ ^] to see 

the Casini Palace. The Queen of Sweden ♦ died there in 
1629 {sic 1689). It is a magnificent building, as to space 

* Christma. The character of this Princess had a bright and a 
black side. For four years after her coronation, she governed liberally ; 
bnt at the end of that time she became weary of the restraints on 
royalty, and abdicated in favour of the Count Palatine. Charles Gus- 
tavus. her cousin. She then went to Rome, and became a regular 
h»s bleu. It did not however say much for her philosophy, that she 
became a Roman Catholic ; nor did it impose any check on her licen* 
tiousness, which was rather too open. Once, when in Paris, she had 
an Italian, her equerry, murdered in her presence, for no other fault 

Digitized by 



and Jtrchitecture. Among the numerous pictures it 
contains, those which most attracted my attention were 
the "ecce homo,'* by Guercino, and a holy family, by 
Garofalo. The colouring of the Guercino, however, is 
not pleasing, and does not express the notion I have 
fonned of what the subject ought to convey. I am told 
Gaiofalo has no originality ; he has, however, much 
taste, and infinite feehng. 

Thursday^ 25th November. — ^Went to the Capitol. 
The statues were new to me : what an interest they 
excited ! The room appropriated to the busts of philo- 
sophers, poets, and the great men of antiquity, was more 
deeply impressive than all the rest. Anacreon, Euri- 
pides, Homer, Socrates, were those whose countenances 
answered most nearly to the idea I had connected with 
their personal appearance, and I examined these efi&gies 
of the great departed long and curiously. 

It must be very delightful to be the possessor of the 
images of such men. Would that I were rich, or that 
riches were not necessary to the indulgence of taste ! 
It is very sad to think how money, or rather the want of 
it, curbs the best feelings of our nature, and restrains the 
most laudable human wishes.* I sometimes think with 
regret of the opportunity I once had of being wealthy. 
I despised riches then ; — ^but twenty years make a vast 
difference to one's feelings on these matters. It is 
nothing to grow old in body, but it is very sad to feel 

than because he did not think her immaculate. In 1660 she returned 
to Sweden, on the death of her cousin ; but the change of her religion 
and|her notorious life, rendered it a most unpalatable domicile ; so 
she in consequence returned to Rome, where she made the world 
Ughter by a great sinner in a 689. Queen Christina, notwithstanding 
aU her indiscretions, was, it is said, an accomplished and agreeable 
personage to those about her ; — ^but as the reverend Mr. Duncan 
Don§^ of Greenock once said in the pnlpit, of Mrs. Potiphar, she 
was a light gipsy. [Original note.] 

* An Irish friend once said to me;, that the want of money is the 
root of all evil. [Original note.] 

Digitized by 



the heart become aged ; very melancholy when we can 
laugh at the " folly " of the light dream of our youth, 
and ridicule " the idle romance '* of that past and pleasant 
time. Some maintain that the heart does not change 
— that despite experience and knowledge of the world, 
there are minds which retain their original simplicity, 
their first aspirations, untainted and unsubdued. But 
I for one cannot agree with this opinion. Contempt at 
our poverty, from the world in general — ^neglect from 
those we love, because we are insignificant and power- 
less — ^the constant abnegation of our most iimocent 
wishes ; — all these combine to teach a lesson which is 
not taught in vain. In short, I am grown worldly, and 
I do love money. 

To return to the busts — I was sadly disappointed in 
the resemblance of one who had alwa}^ been my beau 
ideal of woman, in despite of having heard that she was 
not handsome. Alas ! Sappho is positively hideous ! 
I wish I had never seen the likeness of her — ^there is a 
delusion the less. Day by day, one after another, all 
illusions vanish ; — ^we are ourselves disenchanted. I 
have few beau ideals left, and before I go hence, I 
doubt not every one will be crumbled into dust. 

The day was cloudless, and for the first time I reached 
the top of the Coliseum. How glorious is the view from 
thence ! In the evening I went to the opera, which 
was very indifferently performed. " // Turco in Italia " 
by Rossini, the renowned robber in music. He may 
be termed a charming compiler, but really not a great 
composer : but I must not omit to praise one quintette, 
which is very beautiful. 

I went afterwards to Torlonia's."^ An assembly is 

* This wealthy banker, whom Bonaparte made a Duke, purchased 
the Princess of Wales's most valuable jewels. Some pearls of priceless 
value, which belonged to Her Royal Highness, decorated the ample 
bosom of the citizen's wife. It has been said, that Torlonia bought 
some gems belonging to the British crown ; but this has been sai4 

Digitized by 



always an assembly. I hear Torlonia has a super- 
stitious fear, that ^ould he leave his old domidle to 
inhabit this new abode of Pluto, he would die ; so he 
only holds his festas in the new palace, guarding his 
money-bags in their ancient fortress. However, it is 
unjust not to add, that the Duca di Torlonia, though 
purse proud, and a parvenu,* is a very useful and hos- 
pitable person, and his family render themselves equally 
serviceable and agreeable to all strangers who visit Rome, 
especially to the English. 

? Friday, aft*.— Went to St. Peter's to-day; it is a 
beautiful fane ; but it is a dressed beauty, and too 
elaborately ornamented for a place of worship. Truly» 
it is like a heathen temple rather than a Christian sanc- 
tuary. Canova's monument, erected to Cardinal York, 
is a miserable thing ; poor in design, almost vulgar, 
devoid of poetry and of grandeur. 

I read Lady Morgan's Florence Macarthy. There is 
originality and genius in all she vrrites. 

To-day I received letters from England ; and one 

from Madame [ ^], in which she tells me of an interview 

she had with Princess Charlotte. 

As you say, our friendship has a good deal of the beau 
ideal in it ; I may perhaps gain by it in one way, though I 
lose in the other. However, I should be glad to nin the 
risk of your liking me less on closer inspection, that I might 
have an opportunity of liking you more. As I am become 
naturalised now in England, how I do wish our two country 
seats,^ Dovenest and Greenglade, lay nearer together, so 
that, when you return to England, we might see more of 

likewise respecting other gems, now in other hands : it is merely an 
English on dit [Original note.] 

• He suggested to Thackeray " Prince Pcdonia " in "Vanity Fair " 
and the " Book of Snobs/' where he says : " The Polonias have 
intermarried with the greatest and ^most ancient families of Rome, 
and yon see their heraldic cogniicance . . . quartered in a hundred 
^aces in the city, with the arms of the Colonnas and Porias.''^ ,,, 

Digitized by 



each other ; for, well as I like your letters, I had rather see 
the writer ; and I think we should suit very well in our 
elegant retirements ; we should feed our pigs and poultry 
with much sympathy. Joking apart, I think we have some 
points de reunion, and should both be the better for being 
within reach of each other. But that is alwas^ the way 
in this abominable large world ; — one never can contrive to 
get near those one wishes most to live with. 

And now I must tell you, my cousin [ ] received the 

other day a gracious summons from Her Royal Highness 
Princess Charlotte, to wait on her ; which he of course obeyed. 
She was much pleased when he informed her he had heard 
lately from you; and as she asked him many questions 
which your letter answered, he gave it to H. R. H. to read. 
He . did not do wrong, did he ? The Princess said she was 
aware her mother had dismissed all her attendants; but 
that that circumstance should not in any way mortify or 
distress you, for she well knew that it was no fault of theirs. 4 

Princess Charlotte told me the Queen, her grandmother, 
is much mortified by the marriage of the Duke of Cumberland 
to the Princess of Salms[5fcSolms],* and threatens not to re- 
ceive her at court, &c. There is a good deal of scandal pro- 
mulgated about this Princess ; but I do not like the old Queen's 
harshness on this occasion. It puts me in mind of an anecdote 
I have heard told of Her Majesty, which is characteristic of 
the same stem spirit of virtuous propriety which has actuated 
her conduct ever since she came into this country. 

The Duchess of [ ^],f a great favourite at court, besought 

Queen Charlotte to receive her niece, Mrs. [ ], at the draw- 
ing-room, there having been reports bruited about which 
were injurious to that lady's reputation. The Duchess 
implored the Queen's clemency and indulgence on a point 
so wholly without any just foimdation ; and finally, when 
about to retire from the royal presence, she asked, beseech- 

• Her own niece, Frederica of Mecklenburg-Strelitx (i 778-1841), 
sister of Louise, Queen of Prussia. She marri^, first, in 1793, Prince 
Louis of Prussia, who died in 1796; secondly, in 1798, Prince 
Frederick William of Solms-Braunfels, who died in 18 14. 

t This seems to be a version of the story of the reception given by 
the Queen to the request of the Duchess of Argyll (Lady Charlotte 
Campbell's mother), that she should receive her daughter Elizabeth 
Hamilton, Countess of Derby, after her elopement from her husband. 
She was never again received at Court. 

Digitized by 



iogly, " Oh*^! Madam, what shall I say to my poor niece ? " 
to which Queen Charlotte replied, '* Say you did not dare 

make such a request to the Queen." llie Duchess of [ ] 

was so hurt by this unfeeling denial to her entreaties, that 
she resigned her situation in the royal household. 

There are many other stories likewise told of Queen Char- 
lotte, which do not bespeak much tenderness of heart. When 
Princess Charlotte was christened. Lady Townsend,* who 
held the royal babe duriog the ceremony, (being herself, with 
child at the time,) appeared much fatigued ; and the Princess 
of Wales whispered to the Queen, " Will your Majesty com- 
mand Lady Townsend to sit down " ; — ^to which the Queen 
replied, blowing her snuff from her fingers, " She may stand 
— she may stand." Again, I have heard that the Queen 
seldom permitted her own children to sit down in her presence ; 
and when she was plajdng at whist, one of the royal progeny 
has been known to fall asleep whilst standing behind the 
Queen's chair. Truly, such strict attention to etiquette is 
very Germanic, to say the best of it. I should not think 
such a course politic if her Majesty wished for her offspring's 
love. Yet, perhaps, I am wrong, and that her system was a 
right one ; for tender indulgence to children does not always 
command either love or respect. I remember a very tender 
and excellent father having said to me, that he had received 
an excellent lesson one day from his Uttle girl, whom he had 
been playing with and teazing in sport ; the child suddenly 
grew angry, and cried out, " You are not fit to be a papa." 

To return to the Princess of Salms. I hear her maimers 
are captivating, the tone of her voice is peculiarly pleasing, 
and there is a gentleness blended with dignity in her whole 
deportment, which are seldom united. When Lord Castle- 
reagh proposed an additional allowance for the Duke of 
Cumberland, there were many of the members of the House 
of Commons who were violently opposed to the measure, and 
made some very ill-natured remarks on the Duke. 

There are current reports here, that the Princess of Wales 
is closely watched ; and I think they are likely to be true. 
I own I tremble for her Royal Highness, knowing as you 
and I do, the excessive imprudence of her conduct at all 
times, which frequently, on occasions perfectly harmless in 

• Townshend ? 

Digitized by 



themselves, lays her open to the attack of her enemies. But 
if she was in danger of falling a prey to poUtical sharpers and 
adventurers in England, how much more so will she be ex- 
posed to the machinations of such persons in Italy, and the 
distant countries I hear it is her intention to visit — ^and to 
visit without a respectable English retinue. 

Poor Princess I I fear she vnH come to no good end ; and 
there is so much good in her, it is doubly to be regretted 
there should not be one grain of prudence to guide her aright. 

Never was there a greater piece of folly committed by any 
one than that of Her Royal Highness leaving England at 
such a moment ; it was so bad a compliment to her daughter. 
In short, she played the Regent's game; and he is in high 
spirits, it is said, on account of his Wife's volimtary exile 
from this country. 

I cannot beUeve that good man, Mr. Whitbread, ever 
advised the Princess to leave England ; but if he did, it 
can only be accounted for by the malady which ultimately 
deprived him of Ufe. 

The Princess has only written once to [ ] within the 

last|six months, and Her Royal Highness's letter was evi- 
dently written in very bad spirits. I am very, very sorry 
for her; she is certainly used most cruelly, most unfairly. 
Whatever may be alleged against her, there is much to allege 
against those who drive her to extremities. 

The generality of people condemn her, and praise the 
R[egen]t, on account of the turn poUtics have taken ; which 
he and his ministers have just about as much to do with as 
I have. The great captain is the main spring upon which 
England's glory rests ; and if he brings about a peace, the 
poor Princess will be forgotten. 

Poor Lord [ ] I I beUeve he feels as much for his family 

losses as those who make greater show of grief ; but in this 
last loss he must have had a double regret ; for she never 
recovered having been forsaken, and sorrow soon hastened 
her death. 

Is Princess Charlotte, think you, reaUy going to marry the 
Prince of Orange ? It will be a merry court whenever she 
does marry, at least for the rising generation ; but she does 
not seem to incline to take the person she is ordered, but to 
choose for herself. 

Digitized by 



As to myself, all I can tell you is, I am obliged to go piddng 
up attachments here and there, and of course I am generally 
d^ppointed in them. 

Write quickly to me, and tell me if you know anything 
of the Pnncess. How does she like the thoughts of her 
daughter's marrying the Prince of Orange ? If I were 
Princess Charlotte I would marry to obtain my liberty, for 
she is not well-treated, etc. 


Saturday, 27th. — I went to the Danish [? French] 
Ambassador's, Monsieur de Blacas ; a brilliant assembly ; 
there was present a Danish Princess of Holstein, a de- 
scendant, I believe, of the unhappy Princess Matilda, 
who paid her life, it is said, for her crime — ^her Uberty 
certainly (which was as bad). This Danish Princess 
is sister to the Princess of Holstein, whom I knew in 
England. She is fair in a particular way — ^nay, very 
handsome ; — a fresh countenance, but the cheeks too 
heavy and large. She wore a very simple muslin dress ; 
her hair arranged Uke one of Sir Peter Lely's pictures. 
The Prince her husband is a heavy looking man, but 
with rather an agreeable expression of countenance. 
They are both in manner much like all royalties I ever 
saw, — courteous, but evidently prudent and cautious, 
saying one thing, and looking about at the same time, 
thinking of another. They afforded me too the same 
amusement as I ever had, in observing the crowd press 
around them, to catch a gleam of favour from their 
smiles. So much for rank and station ! it is the same 
every where, and alwa}^ will be. What a strange thing 
power is — ^how it transmutes the basest things into 
high estimation, and vice versd. But let no one pride 
themselves on being exempt from its influence. Those 
who think themselves least Uable to being swayed by 
it, are generally most so. It is one thing to be within 
the dazzling influence of high station and command, and 

Digitized by 



another to consider it at a distance. I like Monsieur 
de Blacas personally ; he is quite one of the obsoletes ; 
a decided member of the VieiUe Cour, imbued with all 
its ancient prejudices. But then he is sincere, and a 
complete character in his way ; a violent Tory of course 
in his poUtics, but on other subjects he converses with 
Uberal feelings and information, — especially on those 
of taste and virtue. 

Madame de Blacas is insignificant in personal ap- 
pearance, although not inelegant. I feel a dislike to 
her from her conduct to the Princess of Wales. When 
Madame de Blacas, dining the height of the French 
revolution, was obliged to seek shelter for her life at the 
court of Brunswick,* and was so reduced in her cir- 
cumstances as to be compelled to gain her liveUhood 
by washing fine linen, the then reigning Duke of Bruns- 
wick and the Princess of Wales discovered her distress 
and assisted her ; yet when the Princess, in her hour of 
distress, passed subsequently through France, the French 
Ambassadress refused to show her the common civihties 
due to her station ; and Monsieur de Blacas, in con- 
junction with the Duchess of D[evonshire], showed Her 
Royal Highness every indignity. What a return for all 
her past kindness to Madame de Blacas. I own this 
trait of character gives me a prejudice against her. 

' Monday, zgth. — Went to see Madame [ 1, and heard 

her sing, which is always a pleasure ; the style is the true 
old Italian, full of pathos and passion. In the evening, 
I went to a great ball at Torlonia's, given to the Prince 
and Princess of Denmark. The banker's new abode is 
magnificent from its space, its marbles and its Hghts ; 
but it was deadly cold in the galleries where the dancing 
took place. There are some statues and pictmres which 

* M. de Blacas was an Emigre with the Comte de Provence, whom 
he served until his restoration as Louis XVIII. 

Digitized by 



appeared to me worth looking at, but a crowded assembly 
suits but little to the examination of such things. 
► I heard to-day from Sir William Gell. What an in- 
exhaustible store he has of droll good-humoured fun. 

LcUer from Sir Wiluam Cell. 

r Your much too amiable letter gave me the greatest pleasure, 
and in some degree acted as a cordial to a terrible inundation 
of bile, with which my whole constitution is overwhelmed. 
My face is become a gravel pit, and my eyes like two stale 
plover's eggs ; so that nobody but Lady Anne Barnard can 
bear to see me. When I get better (as my old aunt expected 
her eyes to do at ninety-eight) I vow a pilgrimage to your 

shrine — ^yea even a party with Lady [ ] ; so expect the 

attack of the Huns and Visigoths in a short time. For the 
present console yourself with the illustrious Friderich August 
Dietrich Yorgensow von SchmouUsow, who is kindly come 

from [ '] on purpose to carry my letter. He has left his 

family in excellent circumstances, and in high spirits at the 
fine harvest of fish skins and saw dust, with which they 
promise themselves a good junket at Christmas, after divine 
service at the cathedral, which is performed by the junction 
of ninety-seven fir trees, placed in a circle and tied together at 
the top with a hay band, which the victories of King Hacho had 
compelled the King of Shetland to cede to him by a treaty. 

Under these awful circumstances, I should state that I 
had yesterday a letter from Mrs. Thompson at Tunis, where 
she is quit happy at finding the barbarians so much less 
barbarous than the Christians ; where she has twelve Janis- 
saries constantly employed to wait upon her ; and the Bey 
Mahmoud has given her several fine horses, on which she 
purposes setting out inmiediately for the city of Athens, 
" dans la Morie** The letter is very long and gracious and 
full of antiquarian and historical researches, on " Carthage 
udina utica," Nebuchadnezzar and patty pans. What you 
have lost by not having an enlightened correspondent I 

By the bye, when I have seen Constantinople, St. Jean 
d'Acre, Jeridio, and some few other places, I go to my own 
paradis ^ Coma. 

I bear His Excellency Count Schiarini di Cigognia has 

Digitized by 



disappeared. I saw Lord [ ] at Paris. He seemed a 

greater fool than ever, and was as usual for slaying Mrs. 
Thompson, whom I have heard him toady for an hour 
together. He said he was going to meet his wife at Milan. 
I recommended him to go to Genoa; assuring him she 
had set out with the Marquis for that place some ages ago. 

How cruel you were not to come to Naples. I must return 
to Italy. Call you me this summer ? Call you me these 
eagles' tails ? said the indignant Mary Anne to Mr. Bernard 
the coach-painter. 

I am come to live upon the [ ], Cecilia is grown quite 

3roung ; but Juliana is rather the worse for wear. Clarissa 
Jackson is making tea in the same black gown in which I 
left her. I conclude she has lost or sold her family ; but one 
dare not ask. Let us combine ; the cursedest thiog is the 
money always. I would make an hospital at Rome for 
decayed purses, and discontented and disappointed agreeable 
people. I intend to struggle hard with the world tiU forty, 
and then to succumb with a good grace, and float down the 
stream of time, like a dead cat in the Thames. 

Pray give me another line. The Westmorland is at Tivoli. 

Adieu I Lady [ ] sported the cruel at Rome, and would 

not dine with us, after setting the Duke of Campo Mele's 
heart on fire. 

I kiss your eyes, 

Your faithful 


Tuesday. — ^Went to a ball at the French Ambassador's. 
All the best English were there : the Bentincks, Cum- 
mings, the Charlemonts, Duchess of Devonshire, Lords 
Clanwilliam and St. Asaph, Lady de Clifford and niece, 
and a Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale, newly arrived persons 
and rather agreeable looking. >^ ^ 

Again I received letters from England^: J two from 
Mr. [ ]y which contain^as follows : 

ExiraOs from Letter, date July 1815. 

^ Madame de Stael has quite kept me alive during the last 
dull foggy month. She is indeed a wonderful and delightful 

Digitized by 



After^the rational and philosophic view you take of the 
great events that are passing under our eyes, why do you 
say to me, " Do not ^nile in derision at the nature of my 
mind/'? Don't you know that the fault of my own, (a 
fault, I am proud to say it, which arises only from the insig- 
nificant situation in which it has been placed,) is seeing 
everything in a serious light. " La caricature de la Gaiety," 
to which such minds are obliged too often to have recourse, 
ought not to take in you. Madame de StaeTs trisUsse is 
UmU aitfyre chose ; but I honour her for feeling, as she ought, 
the degraded state of France; although she is far from 
having a just appreciation of how much they deserve it, and 
how little they are fitted for the good she wishes them, without 
having herself any very just or distinct ideas as to how such 

good is to be procured. She is now, alas ! gone to [ ]. 

I envy them her society ; for she is very delightful when she 
is in low spirits ; and as to any " ridicule that can be cast 
on her," the charm of her superiority is, that its magnitude 
and its variety is such as to allow one to laugh at as well as 
with her. 

Here I am again at the end of my paper, without having 
told you a word of news. I really next time will begin with 
the gazette. The Locks are well, and by this time at Nor- 

bury. You will probably have heard of Lord A[ ^]'s 

strange marriage (I must call it so) with Lady [ \ His 

conduct in the whole afiair was strange. He talked of having 
no heart to bestow, and " two broken hearts " going together ; 

while he left poor Miss [ ^ to lament not having accepted 

this said broken heart, which was entirely at her disposal 

last year. The marriage was at the [ \ Lady [ ] had 

left it for [ ] two or three days before, and Lord [ \ 

followed her. At 8 o'clock in the morning, after this marriage, 

the pair themselves set out for S [ \, 

I shall feel out of humour with myself, dear, until I have 

thanked you for your ddightful letter of the [ \ Do I 

like such letters ? Can you doubt it ? Shall you try and 
write to me in a matter of fact way ? Heaven forbid 1 Your 
letter is a model which I beg you will stick to, and which 
I heartily wish I had any hope of being able to follow in 
my answer. But alas 1 very bad health, joined to very un- 
toward circumstances, have succeeded (yet more than age) 
in reducing me to a mere matter of fact person, for which I 

Digitized by 



am tired of in3^self . But I have been in Italy — I have seen 
Genoa, — I have had my senses inebriated with orange flowers, 
roses, and all the perfumes of the south — I have seen the 
glories of an Italian sun, rising and setting in the Mediter- 
ranean sea — I have gazed in endless soul-sufficing reverie on 
the lakes and mountains of Switzerland — I remember (but 
too well) that such things were, and were most dear to me, 
though I know them to be aU illusions. 

But this, you will say, is not the way in which you wish 
to have a letter filled from England, addressed to an English 
person at Rome. My matter-of-facticUy may here for once 
be agreeable. But where to begin ? Facts in this age are 
so crowded together, and drive one another on with such 
rapidity, that hardly any leave their due impression on 
one's mind— -even on minds Uke mine, which have nothing 
to do but to look on. A letter, received to-day from Mrs. 

[ ]y tells me you had heard of the ever memorable 

battle of Waterloo on the i8th of Jime, and of what had 
happened at Paris, in consequence^ of it. Never was there 
in modem, nor I believe in ancient times, a battle so dis* 
puted, a victory so complete in itself, and so mighty in its 

I am sorry to find you have not got Madame de Stael and 
her atmosphere near you, for a thousand reasons ; amongst 
others, she would keep you au courani des Soinemens ; for 
Rome (do not think me impertinent for saying so) is a comer 
of the world which is six months behind all the rest of it in 
news of every sort. How that degraded nation, France, is 
to get itself settled is yet a m3^tery. Degraded I call it, not 
ior having lost a battle, or half a dozen battles, but for the 
unvarying want of faith and neglect of moral truth, common 
to all its mlers, of whatever party, and all the ruled, con- 
quering, or conquered. Oh I if ever a great moral lesson 
was exhibited to the world, of the necessity of tmth to the 
existence of nations as much as to the weU being of individuals, 
it is in the wretched state to which France bais reduced itself 
by universal falsehood. To talk of this nation or that, or 
of all Europe together, giving France slavery or liberty, is 
talking nonsense. Whatever her fate, she must give it 
herself; and it can never be anjrthing but a "variety of 
wretchedness," till both the governors, (whoever they may be,\ 

Digitized by 



and the governed have seen the absolute necessity of keeping 
iaith with one another. 

Lord Grantham arrived here yesterday, direct from Paris, 
which he left only on the night of Wednesday last. He had 
gone over with his brother-in-law. Sir Lowry G>le, when he 
joined the army, after a hone3mioon of one week only, with 
Lady Frances Harris, Lord Malmesbury's daughter. Lord 
Grantham entered Paris with the Duke of Wellington. It 
was done in the most modest and least offensive manner 
possible — no lace, no feathers, no flourish of trumpets. He 
took up his abode at a house in the comer of the Place de 
Louis XV., with English sentinels at his door, and English 
sentinels wherever there were English functionaries,jbut no 
where else. Lord Wellington promised the men, that he 
would pay them up all their arrears and one month's pay in 
advance, and that by turns every corps should be in Paris. 
This I think a very right attention and honour to troops 
that so fought. In the meantime they are behaving so per- 
fectly well, that Lord Grantham says everybody is desirous 
to have the English within their houses ; and the people say 
they are doux comme des demoiselles, I begin to be afraid 
that, like the jay in the fable, we shall all burst with national 
pride ; for never, to be sure, did we stand half so high before. 

Of Mrs. [ Ys friend and favourite nothing^ was known at 

Paris when Lord Grantham left it. His name was never 
mentioned by any body or any party. This proves that 
there must be a secret understanding about him between the 
French leaders and those of the allies ; otherwise he is as 
attainable at Rochefort, where he is said to have been for 
this last fortnight, as any where else. 

I find I have nearly covered aU my paper with talking 
about France — of which, by Madame de Stael's letter, you 
will know much more than myself. She has marvellous 
powers of exciting sentiments^; which she never felt. Not 
that she is false — ^far from it — I never knew a less affected 
mind ; she shows herself to those who know her well, exactly 
what she is — though by no means exactly as she wishes to 
be thought. Hex intellect, like her feelings, has a much 
greater power of rousing that of others, than of enlightening 
and settling herself. But it is still a very superior intellect, 
and I should pity those who did not profit from, and by it 

Digitized by 



When next you write to her, remember me affectionately to 
her; although unfortunately affection and all its ine&LUe 
delights, are just what she feds the least. 

Tbe extraordinary event of poor Whitbread's death would 
shock you, though you did not know him. The very Sunday 
evening before, he spent with me, and the seven or eight 
men who were beside of the party, saw no alteration in his 
spirits or his manner. I saw and spoke to him, driving in 
Park Lane, between four and five o'clock of the very day 
before the deed was done, and made the same observation. 
But he had been at times in a dreadful state of depression 
during the last three weeks ; and the state of his skull when 
opened. Doctor Baillie told me, more than accounted for 
any acts of violence ; the bone was enlarged, and certain 
litUe spiculae at the edge of it, pressed immecUately on the 
brain ; a disease, he says, which invariably occasioned the 
most violent irritation of mind. He had sworn Lady Eliza- 
beth to take no notice of his altered state, either to her mother 
or Lord Grey ; which hung so heavily on her mind afterwards, 
that she saw several times the Bishop of London on the 
subject. A better counsellor she could not have. Never 
did the death of any private individual make so great a 
sensation in London ; and Lord Tavistock's mention of him 
in the House of G>mmons, made half the House in tears. 

Tell me when next you write, what you have heard of the 
Princess of Wales. In London, it is as though such a being 
had never existed. Things appear to be going on smoothly 
at court ; that is to say no fault is found with the Regent, 
he is heartily glad at the Princess's absence. Did you ever 
hear a clear account of a cock and a bull story which reached 
England some months ago, of Hownam's * having challenged 
Qmpteda, and of a servant having betrayed the Princess to 

* There is much misunderstanding about the origin of Captain 
Hownham. He was not» as Count Munster asserted, " the natural 
son of a footman/' but was the son, by a Scottish lady. Miss Brown of 
Kirkcaldy, of the Page of the Back Stairs in the Household of George 
III., whose portrait Hoppner painted. Bom Blay 13, 1790. and left 
an orphan early, he was adopted by the Princess of Walai. He was 
sent to sea and " was in command of a Frigate at the age of nineteen, 
when the Princess summoned him to her. He abandoned his pro- 
fession for love of his benefactress, and followed her fortunes to the 
end," becoming her secretary. After her death " he retired with his 
wife to Rouen, and died there in i860." 

Digitized by 



the Hanoverian spy, given him ialse keys to her drawers, 
Ac ? I own I believe Ompteda is set to watch Her Royal 
Highness. Heavens I how mean must be the mind that 
would tmdertake to occupy itself with such dirty work. 
Princess Charlotte has decidedly and for ever refused to 
mairy the Prince of Orange, it is said, because she ascertained 
that he was pledged to concur with the Regent to ruin the 
Princess of Wales. Prince Leopold of Saxe Cobourg has 
been named as likely to be the Princess Charlotte's bride- 
groom. I cannot help feeling a tender pity for one so young, 
and so lovely and loveable for her oum sake, as this Princess, 
being compelled by her rank to marry from canvenance. 
I hope she will remain true to her mother. But if that 
mother does anything imprudent, her case is a lost one ; 
and who so imprudent as she I They say Prince Leopold is 
friendly towards the Princess of Wales, and that for that 
reason. Princess Charlotte inclines toward him. I trust she 
may not be deceived, and that His Royal Highness does not 
make promises in order to win the hand of our future Queen, 
which he may never intend to perform. He is after all but 
a petty Prince for the heiress to the British throne. I hear, 
however, he is handsome ; which is more than the Prince of 
Orange is. 

Yours, &c. 

I wonder if it be indeed true, that Princess Charlotte 
will marry Leopold. I think her heart was in favour 
of the Duke of Devonshire ; but I suppose such an 
alliance would never have been permitted ; it would 
open the door to so many private intrigues, and jealousies, 
if Royal personages were permitted to marry private 
individuals or nobles. I have seen the Prince of Saxe 
Cobourg, and do think him well looking, but not noble 
in his air or deportment ; and his expression was not to 
me pleasing ; it was dark and cachi^ his forehead low, 
and he never looks at the person to whom he is speaking. 
But it is wrong to be such a determined disciple of Lavater 
as I am, and to allow oneself to be prejudiced either for, 
or against a person by their countenance, which is after 

n B 

Digitized by 



all very often a treacherous guide. Nevertheless, I can- 
not help being strongly influenced by the impression a 
person's physiognomy makes upon me ; I would not 
disregard the still small voice which warns me, as if 
instinctively, against some, or bids me trust in others. 

I went to see the Duchess of Devonshire. There is 
an instance for example, where charm of countenance 
and of manner fascinate, and make one like her, despite 
of all that has been reported of her character. Her 
room is filled with books, and literature is now the pursuit 
in which she takes, or pretends to take, an interest. 
For my part, I suspect she is come to that time when 
nothing of this world's amusements can charm ; she has 
tasted pleasure in all its varieties ; she has drank it to 
the very dregs ; and the lees are bitter. If there be a 
source of interest to her, it is the Cardinal. A small 
lute is generally placed by her side ; yet no one ever 
heard her Grace play on it. 
\ From the Duchess's I went to Canova's studio. 

Wednesday. — I went to visit the Borghese palace, 
built by Martino Limghi il Vecchio for Cardinal Dezza 
in 1590, and finished in the pontificate of Paul V. Borghese, 
under the direction of Fluminio Ponzio. Its shape is 
that of a harpsichord of Borghese. The collection of 
pictures on the ground floor is fine, and they are well 
arranged, and seen pleasantly, with good attendance ; 
only if the day is at all dark, there is not sufficient Ught 
to view them distinctly. Those which made the deepe^^t 
impression on me were the deposition of Christ, by 
Raphael ; and all the Garofalos, particularly the En- 
tombment, which to me is the most deUghtful compo- 
sition I ever beheld ; the colouring is exquisite, and 
the green draperies, so often employed by this painter, 
appear in that one to the greatest perfection. The 
landscape in the back-grotmd is not the least pleasing 

Digitized by 



part of the composition ; it is of that sublime cast which 
accords so well with the event which forms the principal 
subject of the picture. A portrait of Raphael when very 
}^ung, by himself, and two Titians of a long pecuhar 
shape, also pleased me greatly ; the two latter represent, 
one divine, and the other prophane love, imder the 
figures of two women. I did not clearly make out the 
allegory ; but the colouring of both is gorgeous. The 
famous Diana and Njmciphs, by Domenichino, and the 
four famous Albanos, have not for me that interest wr.ich 
many less^celebrated pictures excite. To my fancy, 
there is something trivial and Uke an opera scene in all 
those Loves and Venuses, which have nothing to do 
with the Loves or Venuses of a deep felt passion. It 
is like the mere machinery of a ballet master. But I 
judge poetically, not scientifically, and doubtless my 
judgment is therefore often erroneous. 

I spent the rest of the morning at Lady W[estmore- 
lan]d's. She was full of the Duchess of De[vonshire] 
and C[ardinal] G[onsalvi], and the Princess of Wales, and 
pontics, private and pubUc, as usual. Many people pre- 
tend to be uninterested about these things ; but I do 
beheve that nobody is so truly sick of them as myself. 
They seem to me so paltry and bustling, so inimical to 
all that is intellectual or noble in our nature. Yet 

Lady W[ ] talks well on any subject, and is certainly 

a most amusing person. I was sorry to learn from her 

that poor Mrs. G[ ] L[ ^]e is very unhappy, and 

is going to part from her husband. Lady [ 1 and I 

agreed Mr. [ ] behaved very cruelly on this occasion ; 

but it is the old story. 

I received a letter from Lady G[ ], who is still at 

Genoa. She writes : 

I was astonished at the arrival of Siccard last night, on 
his way to England. He says his mistress is now travelling, 
accompanied only by Dr. Holland and Mrs. Falconet, the 

Digitized by 



banker's wife, whom Her Royal Highness mentioned in one 
of her former letters ; her two vice chamberlains and Lady 
Elizabeth having refused to go with her to any place except 
England ; upon which the Princess discarded them, though 
she professes to be going home, which Siccard thinks is quite 
out of the question, as she is certainly considerably frightened. 
Her pecuniary circumstances are in a very bad way; not 
from her Royal Highness's expenses at Naples, or at this 
place, but from the great calls upon her income which she 
has left in England. From what I can gather out of Sic- 

card's prudence, C[ ] was right in her conjectures about 

the stocks. But what is of the most consequence to you is, 
she talks of having you as well as St. Leger with her again 
very soon ; therefore you had better be on your guard lest 
the Princess arrive unexpectedly at Rome. Poor Siccard has 
been ill used ; and perhaps that may make him see things 
in a more melancholy light. But he seems to think every- 
thing goes on ill. 

Murat is at Ancona with 7000 men, and nobody knows 
what he means to do with them. I have no time for more 
than to sign myself 

Yours, K. G. 

What can I say about the contents of this letter, 
except that I am sorry, and that I do say and feel most 
sincerely. But I can be of no use to the Princess — ^no 
one can, except Providence. I am inclined to think, 
however, that Siccard's dismissal has been effected by 
the jealousy of foreign servants, not from the Princess's 
free will and wish. But it is equally pitiable to find that 
she is so under the dominion of these Italian menials ; 
and I foresee that they will never rest till they persuade 
her Royal Highness to part with every English attendant, 
high and low, and then indeed she will be left to the mercy 
of unprincipled and rapacious creatures, who will sell her, 
if a price is offered them, to the spies, or rather the 
blood bounds, sent forth by the Regent to hunt her to 
her destruction. Whenever I receive intelligence of 
this kind, I may say without affectation, that it imfits 

Digitized by 



me both for society abroad or occupation at home. 
Siccard especially, was a most faithful and respectable 
attendant. The Princess knows not what she has lost 
in losing his services. 

Another letter, from my friend, Sir W. H[otha]m, 
from Lausanne, was of a very dijBferent and more pleasing 

LeUer from Sir W. H[othAm]. 

I should sit down with great pleasure to give you a little 
journal of our occupation, could I fancy that a description 
of theatres and public buildings, and roads and inns, could 
afiford you any amusement. We have seen much, but con- 
versed little, and of course have acquired few ideas which 
you may not find in the " Picture of Paris," and " Dutens 

May I quiet my apprehensions by supposing that the 
interest you take in the fate of the travellers, will make you 
read this ill written scrawl with greater pleasure than the 
fair pfifU of those learned books ? On our arrival at Paris, 
we soon observed that there are two ways of living there : 
the one, to stay a short time in an hotel, to devote the morning 
to seeing pictures, palaces, etc., and the evening to theatres 
and balls ; the other, to reside for a longer time in lodgings, 
and endeavour to be introduced into private society. We 
had no hesitation in choosing the former ; and, having hired 
a chariot, began our labours by visiting the gallery of the 
Louvre. I need not attempt to describe all the finest statues 
of antiquity, and nine hundred and fifty of the finest pictures, 
which are collected in that receptacle of the works of genius. 
I never was so much deUghted by any production of art as 
by the statue of the Apollo Belvidere. I need hardly add, 
that many of our mornings were spent in the Louvre. The 
cathedral of Notre-Dame, the Salle of the Corps LSgislaiif, 
the Hospital of Invalids, and a thousand other pubUc insti- 
tutions, successively occupied our attention. In general^ 
Paris is distinguished by the magnificence of its public build- 
ings, the narrowness and dirtiness of its streets, the splendid 
apartments of the rich, and the miserable hovels of the poor, 
llie rage for spectacles is so great, that above twenty theatres 

Digitized by 



are fifled every evening, by people of all descriptions. The 
opera seems as fashionable here as in London. The ballets 
excel ever3rthing that I ever saw before, and the orchestra is 
extremely good ; but the singing is very poor. Almost 
every day gives birth to some new " petite piice de thSdtre" 
chiefly stolen from the old Italian and English plays. I made 
a large collection of them for Lewis, by his desire ; so that 
you may hope to see some of them done into English. They 
are acted with great spirit, but the violent gestures and 
extravagant declamation of their tragedians I could not 

We dined one day en famUle with the Duchess of Gordon, 
who mixes much in French society, and whose chief conver- 
sation from morning till night consists in abusing England. 
She must have some scheme in this, which nobody can com- 
prehend. Another day we spent with the Greatheads, who 
complain much of the total want of anything like private or 
rational society at Paris. There are a great many beautiful 
women in Paris, who dress with great taste, and I am told 
at an inmiense expense ; but the race of gentlemen seems 
almost totally extinct. Everybody seems intent upon leading 
what is called a life of pleasure ; and the gaming tables, 
among other expedients, are much frequented. We were one 
night at a ball, given by the Duchess of Gordon. In one room 
we found people dancing French dances ; Lady Georgina * 
even danced a minuet and gavotte with old Vestris. Another 
room was occupied by a gaming table and its votaries, among 
whom her Grace and other ladies were now and then 
observed. We were several times at Lord Whitworth's, 
where we met only English society. Two of our pleasantest 
days were spent at Versailles and Marli. One of the oldest 
customs at Paris, and not the most agreeable, is that at all 
the great suppers which follow the bails, there are seats for 
the women only — the men acting the part of waiters all the 
time, and reckoning their gallantry sufficiently rewarded by 
a crust of bread or a half picked bone thrown to them. The 
quantity of rouge the Parisian ladies wear, is to an English 
eye very disagreeable. The toumure of their throat and 
person is, with few exceptions, extremely elegant, and said 
to be greatly improved since the revolution, by the disuse of 

* Later, Duchess of Bedford. 

Digitized by 



8ta3^, and by other contrivances which have succeeded 
th^. The affectation of domestic manners and customs 
has for about a year been totally laid aside. Luxury and all 
its attendants are as prevalent as in former days ; but the 
imposing splendour of rank, and the polished manners of 
the ancient nobiUty, which in some degree softened the rude 
features of vice, are now exchanged for splendour without 
taste, and pride without dignity. The expense of living at 
an hotel at Paris is enormous. Our lodging alone cost eight 
guineas a week, besides fire, etc. The French people are 
fond of the English just now. I saw our great hero, Welling- 
ton, there, receiving the homage of all the prettiest women, 
who were pulling caps, in no gentle manner, for a smile of 
approval, or a courteous recognition from that great man. 

I saw Lady [ ], our lovely friend, one evening, dancing 

with Lord Castlereagh. I am glad she has retired from the 
Princess of Wales' service ; it was no fitting atmosphere for 
her, so pure and high minded as she is ; for if any part of 
what I hear of that poor mad woman's manners and mode of 
life be true, she is fast losing herself in the estimation of those 
who are most friendly to her. Do not be angry with me for 
calling the Princess mad. I really think she must be so, to 
judge from her headstrong imprudence. It is the kindest 
apology that can be made for her. I assure you, if I have 
now expressed myself somewhat harshly, I have felt a sincere 
interest and pity for her Royal Highness — a chivalrous feeling, 
which would have made me ready to fight in her defence. 
The idea of a woman being persecuted and neglected, even 
if not a Princess, would always have excited a strong wish 
in my breast to serve her, in as far as the limited powers of 
so insignificant a person as myself could avail. And when 
I first heard that the Princess of Wales had left England, 
I was so annoyed, that I broke forth with an oath, and gave 
vent to the vexation and indignation I felt at her folly in 
expatriating herself. 

Good heavens I what a position in public opinion she had 
gained before her departure for the continent. What a 
heroine in history she would have been had she behaved 
properly; and to see her at once throw away her every 
chance of British support, and her daughter's protection and 
love. It was sadly provoking. There had been something 

Digitized by 



so grand in her conduct up to that period--something 
so magnanimous in her silent endurance of her husband's 
malevolence, that could not fail to create a strong feeling in 
her favour. But when she went abroad, she dropt the grand 
historical character of an injured Queen, and she became in 
truth, to use your appellation for her, a Mrs. Thompson 
parted from Mr. Thompson, and going in search of amuse- 
ment. Never was there such a falling ofi in poetry. The 
old French King was very glad Her Royal Highness did not 
visit his capital. Of course he could not have shown her 
any civility, and I am certain none of the English heroes 
would have taken notice of her. The Genevese have a kindly 
feeling for the Princess, though they always call her " cette 
Pauvre dame ! die est fort singidiire" 

But to return to myself. We were detained at Paris by a 
fall of snow, which was said to have rendered Mount Jura 
impassable ; we did not set ofE till the 24th of last month. 
The weather had then for a week been as hot as our sunmaer, 
and it still continues so. Our road lay through Champagne, 
Burgundy, etc. One can travel about sixty miles a day with- 
out difficulty. From Poligny, the scenery becomes interest- 
ing. I wish I could give you any idea of the grandeur of 
the view as we saw it in a thunder storm. It was evening, 
and the road led among lofty hills and deep glens ; the sl^ 
became densely overcast, and the most vivid flashes of light- 
ning every instant illumined the scene. The tall black pines 
on the mountains, the deep rocky glens, and the rushing of 
the torrent beneath us, mingled with the thunder daps ; — 
the moon, now darkened by the passing clouds, now j^ hining 
with all its splendour, with the angry ^are of the lightning, 
all combined to produce one of the most impressive and 
extraordinary appearances in nature I ever saw. I must teU 
you that we had alighted to walk up a hill, when suddenly a 
light appeared for an instant behind us, and we soon saw 
a figure quickly advancing. It was impossible to resist the 
idea that it was a fit and likely place to be robbed in ; 
and we made haste to regain the carriage, which had got 
on some way before us, and we prepared our pistols for 
a vigorous resistance. After a short period of suspense, 
*' bon soir, messieurs,'* uttered by an old woman, rdieved 
all our apprehensions. 

Digitized by 



The first coup toHl of Geneva, and the wide extent of 
the lake, bounded by all the magnificence of alpine scenery, 
instantly recalled all the feelings of enthusiasm which had 
long been connected in my mind with the idea of 

Monsieur de Saussure is all politeness to us, and I am not 
disappointed with *' VimpercepHble Genive," as Benjamin 
Constant had the impertinence to call it. I have met with 
much kindness from every one, and I feel very well inclined 

to remain ; but my friend [ ] is always restless, and wishes 

to go somewhere else ; where, he neither knows nor cares, 
only always to another place than the one he is at. 

I have hved much vdth Madame de Stael and Sismondi, 
and as Uttle as I could help with the English. I have become 
acquainted with a Prince Paul of Wurtemburg, a droll mad 
German ; at least he is so considered. I do not think he is 
mad, but he is a man without any moral principle, conse- 
quently dangerous. He is clever, fuU of fire, of information, 
and of projects, some of them high flown and ridiculous ; but 
certainly his conversation and his talents are of no conunon 
order. His having vdthstood Bonaparte when the latter was 
in the zenith of his power ; — ^his having sufEered imprisonment 
for three years on that account ; — i^ being persecuted by 
his own father, who always hated and treated him cruelly ; — 
these circumstances throw a kind of lustre and interest about 
him, which in spite of his own wild and prowling eyes, and of 
all the stories I have heard of his libertinism, render him 
rather an amusing acquaintance. 

I spent a fortnight at Coppet, vnth the dear Madame de 
Stael. It is very odd, but I do not think (to use a vulgar 
English saying) Sismondi and she put up their horses well 
together. He told me that his friendship for Madame de 
Stael had cooled at one time, and that it has only lately 
returned to its pristine warmth. I ventured to question him 
on the subject, which brought back some particulars of 
Madame de Stall's Ufe, that I own did not leave a favourable 
impression upon me. Sismondi found great fault with her 
for her passion for Rocca, and said he particularly did so, on 
account of her having carried Rocca to England with her. 
There was truth in what Sismondi said, but perhaps there 
was a little envy also. I think the fault of Madame de Stael 

Digitized by 



seems to be a want of tenderness. The melancholy error of 
falling from one attachment into another, is too often 
the crime of those who seek an exalted sentiment which 
they do not find in others ; and it must be confessed, that 
unless reason and self-esteem come to women's assistance, 
the noblest natures degenerate when they fall from one 
attachment to another. 

Lord Lucan and his daughters are still here. The latter 
are handsome, but I cannot say more in their praise, because 
I am only shghtly acquainted with them. I hear they are 
very clever and agreeable. Lady Westmoreland introduced 

me yesterday to Mr. C. f ] the eldest son of Lord and 

Lady [ ]. She interested me in him, by saying Lord 

[ ] had told her that the boy was always crying. It 

seems odd that Lord [ ] should have told this to Lady 

W[ ]. Lady W[ ]d is very quick, very good-humoured, 

and very eccentric. She has too much bustle about her to 
enjoy anything in society that is not hruyanU. I have fallen 

in again with Mr. M[ "]. He informed me, he loved his 

wife even better than the first day of their marriage. I wished 
him joy of the unusual circumstance, and he proceeded to 
underrate Madame de StaCl, which provoked me considerably ; 
and when he told a story about a litUe Adolphe, which he says 
exists, and is the son of Monsieur de Rocca, I could not help 
thinking of what I have so often heard attributed to his 
family — ^the love of scandal for the purpose of diverting 

I am quite ashamed at the length of this letter, dear [ ]. 

A thousand apologies for having prosed so long, etc. 

Thursday, Rome, yd oflDecember, 

, Visited the Chiesa della Concezione delle Capucine, 
situated in the Piazza Barberini. It is small, and pos- 
sesses no beauty as to architecture, within or without. 
It was built by the Cardinal Francesco Barberini, from 
designs by Antonia Cassoni. In the first chapel to the 
right is the famous picture of the archangel Michael, by 
Guido. There is certainly much beauty and majesty 
in the head, but in the action there is something that 

Digitized by 



savours of an opera dancer ; the drapery is decidedly 
bad, fluttering and unmeaning. The kind of blue armour 
with which the avenging angel is clothed, has nothing 
in it of the heavenly armour, which fancy pourtra}^ as 
his appropriate vestment. But when there is so much to 
admire, I feel as if it were presumptuous to speak of the 
defects. One other remark I must make, however, which 
is that the extreme youth of the head and countenance 
seems to me not of a piece with the muscular and almost 
brawny limbs. In the third chapel, St. Francesco in 
extacy, supported by an angel, by Domenichino, is a 
beautiful picture — far more so in my estimation than the 
Guido. The French have despoiled this church of its 
most valuable treasures of art, and left only a collection 
by Carlo Maratta, which are for the most part repainted 
and smeared. Certainly Wilham Lock's paintings are of 
this school in point of colouring. I was amused by detect- 
ing a plagiarism of Canova*s ; his figure of charity is an 
exact copy of one in the FKght into Egypt, but being an 
indifferent picture, and placed in an obscure comer, the 
robbery is not likely to be detected. I heard that Lord 

J[ ] has got all Mr. M[ ]'s, fortune, and that he 

has left his mother £3000 a year, and Lady [ ] £1000. 

The story of Lady Frances Wilson's piece of good luck 
is a most extraordinary one.* I heard also from Lady 
W[ ], that Lady Charlotte Rawdonf has made a 

* Lady Frances Wilson was a lady of very plain personal appear- 
ance ; yet one gentleman, for several seasons, perseveringly gazed at 
her from the pit in the Opera House, so as to cause her considerable 

annoyance ; until at length one day she was informed that Mr. [ ] 

had left her all his fortune ; and prompted by curiosity to ascertain if 
it was the same person who had admired her at the theatre, she re- 
quested to see the deceased, and identified the corpse as being that of 

Mr. [ ]. It was said, Lady Frances owed this piece of good fortune 

to a mistake, as it was a very beautiful woman who occupied the next 
box to her's, to whom the gentleman had intended to leave his property, 
and that he was misinformed as to the name of the object of his belle 
passion, [Original note.] 

t She maixied, in 18 14, Hamilton Fitzgerald, Esq. 

Digitized by 



strange marriage, with a man without any fortmie, mider 
thirty, and so much younger than herself. 

Princess Charlotte is certainly to be married to Prince 
Leopold ; and all our Princes are wandering about in 
different directions looking for wives. The Regent did aU 
he could when the Duchess of Oldenburg was in England, 
to make her marry the Duke of C[umberland] ; and for 
that reason, it is supposed, he kept a strict watch over 
her ; which was very ridiculous ; but he thought that if 
she had gone into general society, she would have heard 
many things which might have given her more insight into 
matters than he wished her to have. The Regent literally 
took possession of the Duchess, and never permitted her 
to go any where or accept of any invitations, but those of 
royalties ; saying it was not etiquette. Why then did 
His Royal Highness for so many years do otherwise him- 
self ? His people and his carriages attended her in all 
her expeditions, in order that she might see every thing 

that was worth seeing in London. Lady W[ ] said 

she thought the Duchess of Oldenburgh's figure quite 
beautiful, and her manners perfect ; and that Princess 
Charlotte had remarked, that she had never had an idea of 
what manner ought to be in a royal person till she had 

known the Duchess of Oldenburgh. I told Lady W[ ] 

that I knew the true reason of the Regent's tyranny over 
the Duchess of Oldenburgh, was to prevent the possibility 
of her visiting the poor Princess of Wales when she was 
in London. She could not go in the Prince's carriage to 
Connaught House ; it would have been a breach of 
etiquette. I cannot say I think it speaks well for the 
Grand Duchess's nobleness or independence of mind, that 
she did not dare to order another carriage to convey her 
to the Princess of Wales. But she was evidently glad 
of the excuse. 

Digitized by 


Sir Thos. Lavrtnce, P.K.A.. piitxt. 


H'm. Fry, scui^. 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 



Friday, 4th of December. 

I went to see a collection of pictures which were to be 
sold. They were indifferent enough. I mistook the lady 
for the maid ; but she was very good-natured ; made a 
great many apologies for being en dishabille ; and invited 
me to her societd whenever I chose to come. She appeared 
better informed than Italian women are in general. I 
admired also the good humour with which she forgave my 
rude blunder. How differently an English woman would 
have taken the matter. She would most likely have been 
exceedingly affronted and indignant. 

I received a letter from the poor Princess to-day. 

Extract of a letter from Her Royal Highness the 
Princess of Wales. 

Pour le plan que vous m'annoncez, comme d£cid6 de votre 

part, de me joindre au mois de [ ] il me parait absolument 

impossible, car vers ce temps, je serats en Grdce, ot probable- 
ment je passerai mon hiver. Au reste, j'ai pris comme il 
fallait mon parti, de me choisir une autre dame, au lieu de 
Lady Charlotte Campbell; une dame Milanese — une Com- 
tesse Angelina Oldi, — ♦ [?n&] V6nitieime et son 6poux; 
qui par des malheurs de poUtiques et de finance, a 6t6 rdduite 
k chercher une occupation. EUe est jeune, douce, bonne, 
et d'une trds bonne sant6. J'ai fait aussi des connaissances 
trte int^ressantes pendant mon voyage [illegible] I'Abb^ 
Mezofanti, biblioth^caire k Bologna, qui m'a promis de m'ac- 
compagner en Gr^ce; il possMe le grand talent de parler 
quarante-quatre difidrentes langues, mortes et vivantes, en 

perfection, comme on m'assure. Au mois de [ ] je me 

propose de me mettre en route et de m'embarquer i Gdne, 
qu'ainsi mon retour vers Tltalie est tr^ incertaine, et pour 
une pdriode tr^ 61oign£e; au reste, personne n'est mieux 
infonn^e que vous-m&oie des diff^ents devoirs que vous avez 
joumellement i rendre, de sorte que ce serait injuste k vous- 
m&ne, et pour ainsi dire, pour moi de vous engager i me 
suivre dans mes diffdrentes poursuites— et puis les arts et 

* Contessa Oldi was sister of Bartolomeo Bergami 

Digitized by 



les sciences que j'aime si avidement k cultiver, n'ayant plus 
d'autre but dans ce bas monde que de voyager ainsi— c'est 
ma seule consolation ayant trouv6 parmi les etres vivans si 
peu de satisfaction et d'attachement, que les morts, et leur 
inunortalit6, me doivent tenir lieu de ce que ce monde ingrat 
m'a si injustement priv6. Rendez-moi, au reste, la justice 
de me croire pour la vie votre sinc&re amie. 

C. P. 
P.S.— Le Mardchal Bellegarde et le Marquis de Ghisilieri, 
m'ont choisi cette dame« la Contessa Oldi. 

I who am well acquainted with the Princess, know in 
what a wounded spirit she wrote the above melancholy, 
yet absurd letter. She is evidently much piqued at Lady 
Charlotte Campbell's having refused to continue in Her 
Royal Highnesses service. But what a choice she has 
made for her new attendants ! Nothing new can be said 
or written on this painful subject; but I feel sincerely 
sorry for the poor woman. 

In the evening I went to the Duchess of D[evonshire]'s, 
where people were all laughing at the Duchess of G[or- 
donl's ignorance of the French language. She is reported 
to have said to the box-keeper at a theatre not long ago 
at Paris, "Ne laissez aucun Anglais entrer dans ma 
boUe.^^ It is also said her Grace wished Beauhamais to 
marry her daughter, Lady Georgina. What an odd wish 
for a great English lady to form for her child ! When I 
heard them all laughing at the Duchess last night, I could 
not help thinking how mean people are ; since, if they 
had been invited to a party at her house, they would have 
flocked to it with eagerness, just as they used to do in 
England, though it was the fashion to quiz her assemblies. 

Sir Joseph C[ ]y was wont to ask, " Are you going 

to Scotch collops to-night ? " Yet he was the first to go 

thither. Lady [ ] observed when the Duchess of 

[Gordon] was under discussion, ** Well, let those laugh 
that win." The Duchess bas married all her daughters 

Digitized by 



greatly, and she is [was] one of the most powerful women 
of her time.* 

There was some excellent music at the Duchess of 
[Devonshire's]. A Madame Vera, who was on the stage, 
but is now married to an ItaUan gentleman, and is quite 
a lady in mind and manners, sang delightfully. She has 
one of those deep toned voices so rare in a woman, and 
which I admire so much. Perhaps a critic might have 
said her voice was rather too coarse. On the whole, I 
greatly prefer Italian society to that of the motley English 
assembled here at present ; for whatever vices or scandal 
may exist among themselves, does not appear ; and 
foreigners are not annoyed, when in their company, by 
listening to malevolent gossip. 

On the whole I am pleased with my s^'our here. I live 
with many of the cardinals, some of whom are both 
learned and pleasant persons, combining the elegance of 
the scholar with that true and unafiected spirit of philan- 
thropy which renders them excellent members of society. 
Some among them it must be confessed are only roguish 
looking priests ; but the greater part deserve the favour- 
able opinions I have recorded of them, and the Cardinal 
Gonsalvi is a noble exception to the mean ideas attached 
to his order ; while the Pope is, in very deed, the father 
of his people, and a man every way worthy of being 
respected. There is a most amiable Archbishop, who is 
very anxious for my conversion to the " true faith." He 

gives me all sorts of books to read, and Lord M[ ] 

strives hard also to persuade me to become a catholic. 

Mr. North is arrived — ^he is very amusing. He told me 
he had dined two daj^ with his feUow servant when he was 
chamberlain, and now his successor, and that he was very 
well behaved. Captain Pechell would not let all the 
company dine with him on board of his ship ; the Princess, 

* Jane Maxwell, Dachess of Gordon, had died in 18 13, so this is 

Digitized by 



therefore, would not sail with him ; and nobody knows 
exactly what is become of her. It is very melancholy. 

Mr. N[ ] told me, that Lord W[orcester] alighted im- 
mediately from his travelling carriage, chez G[eorgiana] 
F[itzroy] and repeated the proposals he had made before 
he went — ^that the parties came out arm in arm from 
Devonshire House, and that her trousseau is preparing — 

that the [ ] are indignant, and will have nothing to say 

to the marriage. This is all for the sake of filthy lucre, 
for the girl wants nothing. Besides, her family is as good 
as his ; and after a man has been very near marrying a 
silk stocking washer, they ought to be too happy to get, 
" Une niice du grand Wellingtons*^ * 

I had a long confab with Mr. W[ ] over things past, 

present and to come ; and in speaking of the Princess of 
Wales, he told me a curious circmnstance which had come 
under his own knowledge, and which is another proof to 
add to the heap of petty wrongs, which the R^ent 
caused to be done to his unfortunate victim. When 
White's ball was finally arranged, and the poor Duke of 
Devonshire, who had been fretted to death by the parties 
having cut down some of his fine trees in making the 
temporary rooms in the gardens of Burlington House, 
was reconciled, at last, to that misfortune — ^a message 
came from a great person to the conunittee, to desire to 
know what style of company they meant to ask to their 
ball, or some clumsy hint of this sort ; which the com- 
mittee however understood, for they sent back word that 
they meant to request the Regent himself to invite all 
the Royalties whom he wished should be there, and that 
they should send a number of tickets to him for that 
purpose. But this was not deemed secure enough to ex- 
clude the obnoxious individual ; for some member, a 

* Georgiana Fitcroy, the Duke of Wellington's niece, maxxied, in 
1 814, Lord Worcester, afterwards Dnke of Beanfort. He remarried, 
in X822, her half-sister, Emily Culling-Smitfa. 

Digitized by 



friend to the Regent, (it was said to be Lord Y[ ],) 

made a motion that no member should give away his 
tickets except to his relations, or that some line of rank 
should be drawn, such as that, no one but peers' daughters 
should be invited ; so as to exclude canaille and higher 
rank likewise. Upon this Lord S[efto]n got up and said, 
it was easy to see these confused proposals were meant to 
exclude the Princess of Wales ; and he observed that as 
one of the members, every ticket he subscribed for was 
his own, and every one of them he intended to send to 
the Princess ; to be disposed of as she pleased. Fourteen 
other members said the same ; but as they were not the 
majority, and as those who were to pay for the diversion 
were not to have leave to do what they pleased at it, they 
determined they would give no ball at all. " I for one,'* 
added Mr. North, "quite rejoiced that for once the 
Regent's mean spite should fail in its object. Ah I " 
said he, " I could write a book on that man. I never 
heard of such dirty motives, except in a foolish novel, 
where the characters are all devils or angels, such as one 
never looks for in real Ufe. Certainly his rancour is unlike 
the noble insouciance of the common run of men and 
women of the world, who are content to keep out of the 
way of those they hate, and think that revenge sufficient." 

I fully agreed with Mr. N[ ] ; but then I reminded 

him of what could be said on both sides of the question ; 
and it ended as usual, by our shaking our heads, and sigh- 
ing. Mr. North heard from England the other day, that 
there are reports of great rebeUions on the part of the bride 
elect, who will agree to nothing unless she has it all her 
own way ; a distinct establishment — ^never to be made to 
go abroad — and several other not unwise provisos— or no 
Prince Leopold ; and that she will not say yes at all, till 
she has seen the Grand Duke Nicolas, whose picture the 
Duchess of Oldenburgh had shown her, and who they say 
is a very handsome man. But in all her stipulations, 

u c 

Digitized by 



none have transpired connected either with natural 
affection, or feelings of a right nature towards her poor 

mother. I assured Mr. N[ "] I thought from all I had 

ever seen or known, the Princess Charlotte loved her Royal 
Highness the Princess of Wales with a strong d^ee of 
affection, but that the latter had done all she could to 
destroy those feeUngs, by leaving England an3 parting 
from her daughter, and I did not wonder if the Princess 
Charlotte had relaxed from her first impulse of warm 

Mr. N[ "] says, the English are much admired just now 

in Paris, and that the French ladies are monsters in r^ard 
to dress, with coiffures a foot high. Marshal Ney wants 
the Emperor of Russia to fall in love with his wife, whom 
the former dances with, and the Marshal has got himself 
appointed Ambassador to Petersburgh. The ;C(Mif< is 
very jealous of the great affection the King shows to all 
the English, and his new grandees cannot conceal it, when 
the English are presented. Lord P[ ] made a friend- 
ship with Platoff, and saw his daughter, who is rather 
pretty, and in case Bonaparte's head should still come 
off, has secured a husband in Russian General d'Avame. 

Lord P[ ] has taken home to England the horse PlatofI 

rode in all his campaigns, which is quite worn out, and is 
going to be given Chelsea and rest, for the remainder of 
his days ; and also another horse belonging to a brave 
Cossack, an attendant of Platoff's, who killed seventeen 
Frenchmen, in one day, with his own hand. 

Mr. North praised the Whitbreads ; but he said, as 
the world in general did not like them, it was a pity the 
Princess of Wales had lived so much with them, and shown 
herself so frequently at places where she had no business 
or interest ; such as at the Freemason's Tavern, to listen 
to speeches about charity schools, in which, in fact, she 
took no interest, and where she looked very grand and 
cross, and gained no popularity. 

Digitized by 



Mr. North has been reading Lady Morgan's '* O'Donnd/* 
and is delighted with it. He says he never read a book 
that amused him so much, and that it has the merit 
of being more interesting in the last than in' the first 
volimie. He says it was written when she was staying 
at the Priory. 

Saturday, Sth of December. — I walked in the outskirts 
of the dty, and observing a garden in a better state of 
cultivation than Roman gardens generally are, and full of 
flowers, I asked leave of an old gentleman, who was 
standing near the gate, to permit me to enter ; intending 
to purchase some of the flowers ; but I found that the 
proprietor would not have plucked one for the world. 
He proved to be quite a character. He told me he had 
passed five years in England, and many more in France. 
In the days of Madame de Genlis, he was about the 
present Duke of Orleans, as one of his InstUuieurs. He 
told me he understood English, and once translated 
Milton into ItaUan ; he spoke with enthusiasm of the 
occupation of gardening, and showed me his library, 
which was also his bed-room ; it looked more comfort- 
able than any Italian bed-room I ever saw ; though the 
bed vras sufficiently miserable. 

He had, he said, known the Duchess of Devonshire 
very well ; " not this one," he said, " but the beautiful 
one who is dead. This one is too great a friend of an 
enemy of mine for me to know her ; besides," he added^ 
" I live out of the world now." 

I wonder whether it can be true that this little dirty 
old man was intimate with the Duchess of Devonshire ? 
Yet there have been more unlikely things than this ; and 
perhaps he knows many a strange thing concerning that 
lady. But he would not speak of her again, though I 
endeavoured to make him do so. 

I accompanied Lady W[ ] B[ ] in the afternoon 

Digitized by 



to St. Onofrio. The beauty of the view is transcendent. 
It is somewhat less extensive than that seen from the St. 
Pietro in Montorio ; but the objects are presented nearly 
in the same point of vision. The Tiber, St. Peter's, the 
Coliseimi, the tomb of Cecilia Metella, the Palatine, etc., 
and the vast plain stretching around ; these, seen from 
beneath the oak called Tasso's oak, acquire fresh interest 
from the idea that his eyes often contemplated the 
glorious scene, and that he received from it some of that 
inspiration which breathes throughout his muse. St. 
Cteofrio is built on the smnmit of the Janiculimi. It is 
small, but of a pleasing structure, and there is an air of 
devotion in its quiet cloister. But I believe I always 
think so of every gothic place of worship. It was built 
by Eugenius the IVth, for the hermits of St. Jerome, and 
finished, together with its contiguous convent, by the 
Roman family Di Cupis. The hermits continued to reside 
here, till Pius V. obliged them to observe the rules of St. 
Augustine. In the portico, or rather corridor, before the 
church, is placed a virgin and child, painted in fresco, 
said to be by Leonardo da Vinci. The paintings in the 
first chapel to the right are by some early painter, the 
hand unknown ; they are generally much damaged ; but 
to judge of the parts still extant, they are of a fine order 
of design. Those above the cornice in a sort of cupola 
on the high altar, are by Pintorrichio ; those below by 
Peruzzi : both are good. But to a lover of poetry, the 
greatest interest excited by this spot is, its being the rest- 
ing place of Tasso's remains. Here too he spent his last 
daj^, and here lie his ashes, beneath a plain stone, bearing 
this inscription : 

Digitized by 



D. O. M. 







P. P. 

M. D. C. I. 


Who can tread on the ashes of the honoured dead, and 
not feel the lesson that their silence breathes ? But in 
the memory of this highly gifted mortal such lesson is 
more pecuUarly touching. When fortune ceased to perse- 
cute him, health, and strength and vigour failed. In the 
rude blast, the flower shed its perfume ; but when the sun 
of fortune burst forth, that splendour proved too oppres- 
sive — it faded and died. The Pope gave Tasso a pension ; 
he gained several lawsuits, and in fine, a glorious triumph 
awaited him. Fame wove a chaplet due to his talents ; 
but death came with a rapid stride, and snatched it 
from him. The tomb opened beneath his feet;— he felt 
the doom awarded by Providence, and retired to this 
monastery of St. Onofrio, to contemplate that everlast- 
ing glory which mocks all earth-bom greatness. Under 
this impression, he addressed a letter to Constantino, 
his faithful friend — and died. 

In the first burst of feeUng, the Cardinal Cintro thought 
of paying every mark of respect to the memory of his 
friend ; and to this end, but with a vain and pompous 
sentiment, he caused the body of the deceased to be 
arrayed in a Roman toga, to be crowned with laurels, and 
to be publicly displayed and carried through the prin- 
cipal streets of Rome, attended by all the Palatine court ; 
then carried back to St. Onofrio. It was deposited finally 

Digitized by 



beneath the humble stone where it now lies. Funeral 
orations were prepared in Latin and Italian ; and the 
Cardinal designed to have erected a magnificent mauso- 
lemn over his friend. But the grief of the Cardinal, it 
seems, soon subsided, many cares superseded those which 
he felt for the departed, and his intentions remained unful- 
filled. The Marquis de Villa, going to Rome some time 
after Tasso's decease, hurt at the neglect which was shown 
to the memory of the great poet, when he discovered that 
there was no memorial to designate the place where he 
lay, was desirous himself of erecting a monimient ; but 
living vanity stepped forth again, to defraud the dead of 
their honour ; and the Cardinal replied, " that was a 
duty which devolved upon him, and which he alone must 
fulfil." The Marquis de Villa, foreseeing that no monu- 
ment was likely to be erected, requested the monks to 
place the simple inscription which has been given, and 
which designates the spot where lies the dust that once 
was intelligent with genius. After the expiration of eight 
years, the Cardinal Bevildegra, of Ferrara, seeing that the 
Cardinal Cintro still postponed the fulfilment of his 
pompous promise, erected a bust, which surmounts the 
inscription that records the life and death of Tasso. 

Cos! trapassa al trapassar d' un giomo. 

On my return home, I found a letter from the Baron de 
S[ ], dated Paris. 

Vous m'avez fait une bien aimable charity, en me permet- 
tant de vous dcrire. Paris est si triste, et Tintferet du spec- 
tacle de la France est d'une nature si p^ible, qu'on a besoin 
de rapporter sa pensfe sur des souvenirs qui aient du charme 
et de la douceur. On dit que vous avez ^t6 assez bonne pour 
regretter i votre passage k Coppet que le Baron n'y fut pas. 
Ce Baron en est profond6ment reconnaissant, et je vous 
assure que vos r^ets nef sauraient £tre aussi vrais que les 
siens. Paris est presque devenu une^ville anglaise. Tons 
vos compatriotes ont^voulu venir voir leur conquete. II 

Digitized by 



y a loin sans doute de leur noble simplidt6, et de leur rigoureux 
discipline, i rarrogance des Prussiens ; mais vous avouerai-je 
pourtant que la haute idde que j'ai de TAngleterre me faisait 
attendre encore mieux ? Je crains pour voire arm6e de 
dtoyens le contact des armies continentales ; je crains pour 
votre jeunesse ministdrielle, I'^cole d'une diplomatie, tout au 
moins peu liMrale. Quand on commence k parler avec m6pris 
de la liberty chez les autres, on n'est pas bien loin d'y itre 
indifferent chez soi. La manie des cordons gagne vos officiers. 
L'ordre du Bain ne ressemble pas mal k la L^on d'Honneur. 
L'ombre de Fox aurait bien des choses i, dire : la pauvre 
France est dans la plus deplorable des situations ; ruin6e 
par retranger ; dechir6e par Tesprit de parti : il faut un 
miracle pour la sauver. Comme je connais la curiosity de 

[ ] siu" ce qui tient i, Bonaparte, je suis tent6 de vous 

raconter quelques anecdotes sur la fin de son rdgne passager. 
Avant son depart pour Tarm^e, il s'emporta avec violence 
contre quelques-uns de ses Conseillers d'Etat, " Vous me 
muselez avec vos constitutions," leur dit-il ; " vous me 
garottez. On ne reconnsdt plus le vieux bras de I'Empereur. 
Comment ai-je gouvem6 pendant douze ans avec gloire ? 
C'est qu'on sentait le bras de I'Empereur ; et aujourd'hui que 
I'ennemie est aux portes, vous me liez les mains avec votre 
m^taphysique." II revient de Waterloo nullement dans 
Tintention d'abdiquer; moins avec celle de dissoudre les 
Chambres au moyen de ce qui lui restait de sa garde k Paris. 
II etait k d^jeimer, et portait une fourchette k sa bouche au 
moment ou on vient lui annoncer que La Fayette montait k 
la tribune pom: s'opposer k son dessein. A cette nouvelle, il 
laissa tomber sa fourchette et dit : *' YoUk les vraies hostility 
commenc6es." Depuis son abdication il donna plusieurs 
conseils sur la mani^e dont on pourrait encore se d^fendre. 
II indiqua aux commissaires de la Chambre la route qu'ils 
devaient suivre, et montra quelques lueurs de patriotisme. 
Lorsqu'il monta k bord du Bell^rophon, le General Becher, 
charg6 de Taccompagner, voulut y monter avec lui; mais 
Bonaparte se retouma et lui dit : " Non, restez, G6n6ral, — 
il ne faut pas que la France ait Tair de me livrer." Depuis 
lors toutes ses conversations ont 6t6 dans les joumaux. 

Vous voyez que je cherche des pr6textes pour causer plus 
long-temps avec vous. Daignez me les pardonner, et croyez- 
moi, &c. &c. A. DE S[ ]. 

Digitized by 



In the evening I went to the Duchess of [?Devonshire], 
where I heard a good deal of English news. Princess 
Charlotte's approaching marriage with Prince Leopold 
was canvassed, and no one seemed to approve ; yet» as 

Mr. N[ ] observed, " who else is there who could be 

chosen for the bridegroom, since Her Royal Highness 
decidedly objected to the Prince of Orange, notwith- 
standing all the Duchess of Oldenburgh's persuasions ? '* 
The Regent evidently wished his daughter to take the 
Prince of Orange; otherwise why should he (who was 
so careful in excluding from Princess Charlotte's society 
any one inclined to encourage her in independent prin- 
ciples) have permitted her to be intimate with this cunning 
Russian lady, whose very eyes betrayed the wily nature 
of her character ? 

The Parisians have all been laughing at a mistake 
made by the Duke of Wellington, who went into the 
royal box at the opera, and excited the wrath of the 
French people ; who have caricatured him acting the 

part of a King. Lady C[ ] L[ Js marriage with 

General M[ ]d, is a matter of surprise, as he has no 

money, and all the English at the Duchess [ ^]'s last 

night expressed their astonishment at the *' foolish 
match." The news of poor Lady Charles Bentinck's 
death shocked me.* She was a person I had known 
intimately for nearly twenty years, and was herself so 
happy and young, and had thought so httle about dying, 
I should imagine, that it made it the more melancholy. 

She was to have been confined the end of [ ]. In a 

letter the Duchess [ ] received to-day from Mrs. Poole, 

she says it is imiversally beheved Lady Charles's death 

* She, who died in 1813, was Miss Georgina Seymour, and was 
daughter of Grace Dalrymple, the divorced Lady EUiot, " Dolly the 
Tall/' whose name was connected with that of Philip £gaUt6 and 
with the Prince Regent, whose daughter Lady Charles Bentinck was 
reputed to be. Her only child, Georgiana Augusta Sejonour, died 

Digitized by 



was occasioned by a fall which had injured her spine. 
I am very sorry for poor Lord Charles ; they were a 
happy pair, quite wrapped up in one little girl, and lived 
most comfortably. She was a lovely creature and only 
thirty-one years of age ; and without calling her a great 
friendy we were always upon the best terms at all times, 
and I liked her conversation and society whenever I was 
in it ; though perhaps we were not congenial souls. 

Lady Burghersh travelled to join Lord B[ ] from 

Berlin to Frankfort, on the track of the French army, 
through every sort of horror ; the ground covered with 
dead bodies of men and horses, and flocks of crows darken- 
ing the air, devouring them ; and the smell horrible. 

The Regent, Mr. N[ ] says, is more unpopular than 

ever ; and on a late occasion, when His Royal Highness 
went to church (to receive the sacrament) he was hissed 
and groaned at, both going and coming. He was afraid of 
going in state through the streets as he should have done, 
but went in his private carriage through the park. But 
the mob found him out, and climg to the carriage wheels, 
hissing, as Mr. North's correspondent informed him, and 
the church (the chapel royal) was surrounded by soldiers, 
who would not even let in a peer's son. This sounds very 

revolutionary; "but," added Mr. N[ ], "it is all his 

own doing." I wondered at his daring so to speak in the 

Duchess [ ]'s house, who leans so entirely towards the 

Regent, and is such a bitter enemy to the Princess of 

Wales. But Mr. N[ ] is a privileged person, and may 

say and do what he likes. He is a favourite with all 
parties and all persons ; and he deserves the distinction ; 
for he is indeed a clever and a good man. 

Monday, jth of December. — ^Visited St. Onofrio again, 
and saw a bust of Tasso, or rather a cast taken from his 
face after his death. The certainty of its resemblance 
makes it interesting, though the hand of death is evident 

Digitized by 



in the lines of the features^ and one of the eyelids is 
drawn down. It is a countenance expressive of that 
refinement and feeling which his works exhibit. Such 
are the memorials which remain to be seen at St. Qnofrio ; 
and in contemplating these, the other circumstances of 
interest sink into insignificance. The site, however, of 
the garden, its foimtain, its oaks, and the steps which 
lead to the " Teatro de' pici Trattenimento," a beauteous 
spot where St. Filippo Neri used to preach to certain 
assemblies denominated Agapae, are grateful to the 
feelings. The custom of preaching in this spot is still 
continued on every festival after vespers. St. Filippo 
chose a noble pulpit from whence to address his followers ; 
and his descendants have adorned the spot with rows of 
stone benches, rising in the form of an amphitheatre and 
commanding the magnificent view of the town and its 
vicinage which lie below. The cypress, the ivy, the oak, 
encircle the fountain, which fancy might easily designate 
as a spring of Helicon. Let the lover of poetry, of feeling, 
and of imagination hasten to St. Qnofrio, and enjoy the 
remembrances it awakens — the visions it creates. 
) I spent the evening at Lady Westmoreland's. 

Tuesday^ the 8ih. — Received several letters from Eng- 
land. The post day is one of mingled pain and pleasure 
to me in general, and I rather dread the intelligence it 
brings me, lest I should be reminded by some careless or 
cruel person of things I wish to forget entirely. But 
this day's news was quite immaterial ; only gossiping 
letters from uninteresting correspondents. One of them 
however, speaks sensibly on public affairs, and says : 

I congratulate you on all that has happened in the poUtical 
world, which is so extraordinary, that it appears like a dream 
that one can hardly believe. I wish you had been in London 
to have seen the illuminations, whidb were really beautiful. 
One might have supposed one's self at Paris, with everybody 

Digitized by 



covered vnih fieurs ie lis, white cockades, and viveni les 
Bourbons, in every quarter. I am very glad they are restored, 
poor people ; though I am not so enthusiastic about them as 
the world in general, and think them but a very poor set. 
The present King is so gouty and dropsical, they say he will 
certainly die of the fuss. I am very glad the poor Duchess 
d'AngoulSme has a prospect of seeing a little enjoyment of 
life, and I hope they will profit by all they have suffered. 
It is a great pity she has no children. Every body is going 

abroad ; Lord L[ '\ is gone, and Lord Lucan has disposed 

of his house in Hamilton Place, and is also on the wing for 
the continent, with all his daughters. The only piece of news 
which I am sorry to tell you is, that our poor friend Lady 
S[ '] is dead. Her release from a life. of sorrow and dis- 
appointment cannot, for her own sake, be lamented ; but I 
Imow you will feel with me sincere regret to think that one so 
beautiful and so good should have had such a hard portion as 
she endured. I never can efface from my remembrance her 
vision as she was in her youth, or forget the winning charms of 
her mind and disposition, which were as pre-eminent as those 
of her person. Her fault, if fault it can be called, was a too 
exalted idea of happiness, the vain search after which rendered 
her the miserable being she became in after years. Yet she 
was more to be pitied than blamed, for she had no judicious 
friend or relative to check the romance of her disposition, and 
bid her beware of cherishing such high wrought sentiments. 
Altogether her cruel destiny must excite compassion. Reared 
as she was in the lap of luxury, ignorant of poverty or privation 
of any kind, she was not prepared to meet the strange and 
imexpected reverse in her situation in later years. Once, 
when in the first bloom of her beauty, I cautioned her against 
sacrificing every sober consideration to love ; and I remember 
how she laughed and scorned my warning. It was on the 
occasion of her showing me some verses which she had written 
at the time, and which I now transcribe for you, thinking you 
win value them, and read with a melancholy pleasure the 
expression of that feeUng which made her whole existence 
manqut, from bemg ill-regulated,_and ill-placed. 

Digitized by 





The dock strikes ten, and beaux advance 

But just in time to view the dance ; 

They come to see or to be seen ; 

The greatest part, the last I ween ; 

And in the lobby as they stand. 

To female eyes a sightly band ; 

Some chosen few outshine the rest. 

By nature or by fashion blest. 

But ah ! how few among the host 

Of these united charms can boast ! 

And those who only claim the first. 

As iht world goes have much the worst. 

Observe them now, rapt up in self. 

And bowing to that idol elf. 

Ladies, it is not you they'd please ; 

Leave off your airs, and sit at ease 

You feed their vanity, 'tis true. 

But they'll think ne'er the more of you. 

See how they stand — ^now stretch — ^now loll— 

Look at that tip-toed perfumed doll ! 

A Scotchman too 1 'tis Cunynghame, 

You'd only guess it by the name. 

Where are the Umbs that erst of old 

Could brave alike or heat or cold ; 

And tho' unpolished, still could prove 

Faithful to their rude country's love ? 

In these I see some French friseur 

All dress, grimaces and millefleurs. 

See Milsington with simpering face ; 

In Fashion's list he holds a place. 

There Reason's only known by name. 

And veils her head for very shame 

Yes M[ ] his shining parts displays 

At some masked ball on gala days. 
As harlequin or punch he stumps^ 
But always is a Jemmy Jimips. 

Digitized by 



Next see yon compound sneering stand. 
As though all other fault she'd scanned. 
By nature for a man intended. 
But since by affectation mended, — 

C ]'s become a waspish thing. 

That feels the wish but cannot sting 

Yet let me still in justice say. 

Had he been bred another way. 

He might have shown the common herd 

He was not quite a jackdaw bird. 

Just by — ^what horrid wight is that ? 

A box^s I oh I have it pat, 

Whose brawny shoulders well declare, 

A porter's load should be placed there. 

And Hervey Ashton, that heart slayer. 

Admired by all our modem fair 

May well deserve bright beauty's meed 

Who every night commits some deed 

Of mighty prowess in the street 

With every blackguard he can meet. 

Ladies of Billingsgate, aU say. 

And aU ye Strand nymphs e'er that stray, 

How often in defence of you 

He's beat some coachman black and blue ; 

How often at a drunken bout 

He's sat his fellow monsters out ? 

Well may he claim from beauty's hoards 

For all ^kese deeds some bright rewards. 

And next who is it there I see ? 

A figure of no mean degree ; 

Paget, whose supercilious air 

Alarms the pride of modem fair. 

With seeming ease, but studied care^ 

His eyes assume a vacant stare ; 

But spite of art in every feature. 

We trace the nature of the creature. 

But fortune, beauty, title, fame. 

Most fluttering female breasts inflame. 

By these he conquers ; but by these 

The sensate heart he'll never please. 

In V[ ]'s sly tho' handsome nuen. 

His nature may be quickly seen ; 

Digitized by 



The oily tongue, with honeyed phrase. 
The insidious eye, that courts the gaze 
Which downcast still it seems to shun. 
As wily serpents court the sun. 
In spite of nonchalance betrays 
A cloven foot a thousand ways. 
Though, to say truth, the handsome boy 
I do believe has no such joy 
As racing, or as rattling dice ; 
Compared to which all other vice. 
Is tasteless, cloying, and soon o'er ; 
But thai once gained lasts evermore. 

H[ ] witii unaffected form, 

Some hoyden girl who's ta'en by storm. 

May win his rank, can too dispense 

Far greater baits than those of sense ; 

That face in which good nature teems 

Those laughing eyes where softness gleams. 

Make one forgive the noisy calf. 

And with him one may dance and laugh, 

But he who'll hunt the live long day, 

And spend his hours 'mong boors away^ 

Then o'er a bottle sit and smoke, 

And crack some senseless drunken joke, 

May chuse that life for him designed : 

I'm not his wife — so I'm resigned. 

But of all follies that I see. 

The most disgusting still to me 

Is age and ugliness prestmiing 

To court the far, the yoimg and blooming. 

I know but one thing that is worse : 

It is to see the clinkhig purse 

Draw forth consenting smile from these 

Nor think it infamy to please. 

Observe that worn out battered beau. 

One eye for use, one eye for shew ; 

With half an ear, and that one eye 

To Vice's manes, breathe a sigh. 

Behold the aged wizen'd thing, 

That flutters still round Folly's wing. 

One of the bulwarks of the state, 

A powdered fop with empty pate. 

Digitized by 



If in this skeleton yon trace 

Q[ ]'s worn out form and withered face, 

You surely recognize his grace. 

No, not in Fashion's rounds I see 

My heart will lose its Uberty. 

There Nature's ever in disguise ; 

There Ups and looks, and hands, and eyes 

Are still at variance with plain truth ; 

And age afiects the vice of youth. 

Shew me the man to whom for ever tied, 

I'd proudly own subjection till I died. 

Apollo's form, with Alexander's face ; 

A manly beauty, yet a gentle grace ; 

To snatch from sounding fame unfading fruit. 

Not scorning gentle and^domestic joys. 

And e'er a foe to vulgar^'drunken noise. 

A butt his odium ; a led captain worse ; 

And boon companions still his greatest curse : — 

His pubUc life in legislation shine ; 

His private hours be only Love's and mine. 

If such a blessing be designed for me. 

However distant the fair prospect be. 

Nor time, nor barrier shall withhold 

My heart, or barter it for gold. 

I live to hope, — ^and now, adieu to thee. 

Thou varying scene of various imagery I 

Yet not at times despised, e'en thou canst give 

Good lessons what to prize and how to live. 

Smoke, noise, and bustle, , 

Crowd, heat, and jostle, 

Perfume and stink. 

And beau and link» 
Adieu, adieu. 

These doggrel lines do indeed recal poor Lady S[ ] 

to my remembrance, and excite many painful regrets 
that one so gifted by nature, and so worthy of fortune's 
favour, should have made so little use of the first, and 
been so scantily endowed with the latter. It is another 
melancholy proof of the folly of romance. Verily I begin 
to think I have not a spark left within my own breast ; 

Digitized by 



for I have witnessed its bad effects in so many I have 
loved and liked, that I am sick of the word. Well, all 
these reflections cannot avail my poor friend, and I turn 
with a sorrowful pleasure to the thought that she is now 
beyond this world's joy or sorrow. Had any one but 

Lady S[ ] written these playful verses, it might have 

been thought she only condemned those whom she could 
not hope to please. But being, as she was at the time, 
the handsomest woman in England, and as exalted in 
station as in beauty, this satire on the beaux of that 
period cannot be ascribed to pique. No, she was quite 
sincere, and felt as she wrote. But before she died, aye 
many years previously to her decease, she said to me, 
" I have proved that 

" Tis best repenting in a coach and six." 

I never shall forget how angry I was with her for 
saying so. My beau ideal of romance was destroyed 
from that moment, and I have never been able since to 
conjure up another bright vision. 

Another friend. Sir W. H[otham ?], writes to me and 
announces the decease of another person, but one of 
more note in pubUc Ufe, and less interesting to m3^self. 
In speaking of Lord Hood, Sir W[ ] says : 

Advanced as he was in life, (for he had reached his ninety- 
third year,) his society was delightful to those for whom he 
still felt the warmth of attachment. He was in full possession 
to the last of his mental faculties, and viewed the speedy 
approach of death with the same undaunted firmness he had 
often displayed amidst the dangers of the element upon which 
he served, and in the day of battle. Though for some time 
under his command, and much with him subsequently in 
domestic life, he never appeared to betray any want of that 
steadiness of temper which bespeaks the officer and the gentle- 
man. He was a warm, and what is more rarely to be met 
with, a persevering friend. It was gratifying to me to see, as 
I did a few days after his dissolution, the countenance of 

Digitized by 



my venerable friend — calm and composed in the sleep of 

I passed a very pleasant evening yesterday at Mrs. 
Holroyd's,* where, notwithstanding the music and the con- 
versation, which were both good, I was reminded, naturally 
enough, of Lord ShefGield and Gibbon, and Lausanne and 

f ], and a thousand circumstances of past times, which 

distracted me from attention to the present. The period 
when the friendship I first formed at S^cheron was in embryo, 
reverted to me ; and I felt a wish that many hours I passed 
there should return. But alas I one's retrospections upon 
happiness, of which we never know the value whilst we possess 
it, are sometimes as painful as they are unavailing ; and the 
phantoms of other times which flit before our imaginations 
vanish from us, Hke the illusions of a morning's dream. My 
ties and attachments in this country are strong, very strong, 
and they ought to be so ; but many a wistful glance is cast 
towards the Alps, and the shores of the Mediterranean. I 
want soul, and there is Uttle of that article to be met with, 
either in the splendour of a court, or the intoxication of 
military glory, or what is worse than all, and more frequent 
than either here, the insufferable arrogance of newly acquired 
wealth. It would be delightful to be able to divide one's 
time between the majestic sublimity of nature, and the society 
and conversation of those whom we could love. 

Wednesday y qth, — ^Went to the Barberini Palace: it 
stands in the Via Felice, which leads to the Quirinal Mount, 
and is supposed to have been built on the ruins of the 
house of Numa, under the pontificate of Urban VIII., 
who was himself of the family of the Barberini. The 
garden is said to occupy the aiicient site of the Circus of 
Flora, and the CampidogUo, which was a temple, with 
three distinct chapels or cells, one dedicated to Jupiter, 
another to Jimo, and the third to Minerva. 

In ascending by the principal staircase of this palace, 
there is a magnificent antique lion, as large or larger than 
life, enclosed in the walls. From thence one passes into 
* Probably " Serena," sitter of the fitBt Earl of Sheffield. 

n D 



Digitized by 



the saloon, the vault of which is painted in fresco by 
Pietro di Cortona. This hall is inunense, and of fine 
proportions, and were it clean and furnished, it would 
be magnificent. All the chief objects in Rome bear this 
abstract character of grandeur ; but so many minor 
circumstances of dirt and defects mar the effect originally 
designed, and disgust or offend the senses, that it is a 
perpetual alternation of excitement, passing from the 
sublime to bathos, from the height of beauty to caricature. 

But to return to the hall of the Barberini : this vault 
is accounted Pietro di Cortona's best fresco work. The 
subject is allegorical : — the triumph of glory represented 
by the attributes of the house of Barberini. In tiie second 
room the roof is painted by Andrea Sacchi, the subject 
divine Wisdom. The seat on which the judge is placed is 
precisely similar to the one on which Sir Joshua Re5molds 
has placed Mrs. Siddons as the muse of tragedy. 

Spent the evening at the Duchess [of Devonshire]*s. 
Nothing was spoken of but the Princess of Wales. The 
royal battle seems, from what she had heard from England, 
more desperate every day. There are eternal meetings, 
and every sort of judge and person considted in the 
church and state, and ever3^hing that ever was heard 
or suspected, inquired into, even previously to the old 
inquiry, to justify their neglect and ill-usage of her Royal 
Highness. They say the opposition papers are cooling 
in her cause also. Alas ! poor foolish woman ! how can 
it be otherwise ? Even the Chronicle is no longer so 
violent in her favour. " Every one," said the Duchess 

[ ly " despises Sir F[ ^] ; and the other night, when 

it was expected he would bring forward a motion on the 
Princess Charlotte's being Regent, without restrictions, 
if the Prince were to die, everybody went away. Nobody 

stays to mind anything Sir F[ 1 says. Every one 

also," added the Duchess, " is making an outcry about the 
Princess's present associates, as more injurious and dis- 

Digitized by 



graceful to her than her former offences." Mr. N[ ] said 

be had heard that the Regent was obliged to give up all 
idea of [divorcing her ; because he had declared he would 
have the letter he had written to the King at the time 
she was acquitted produced, in which he had aflSrmed 
that he never could or would believe her innocence, 
and gave his reasons for it ; and this letter, he said, if 
published, would acquit him of inconsistency. But in 
this same letter his Royal Highness said the Chancellor 
was a rogue, and that it was all owing to his imjust 
partiality the Princess got off ; and the Chancellor told 
the Prince, if this letter came forth, there must be an 
end of him. My fear for the Princess now is," added Mr. 

N[ ], " the very great research they are making, and 

the very odd things to her disadvantage even the opposi- 
tion papers publish. If they could do nothing against 
her I think they would have found it out by this time, 
and would, as I supposed, have done nothing ; and I am 
afraid these archbishops, &c., would not let themselves 
be made foolsof , to sit every day in judgment on nothing/ " 

I answered not ; but I own I was sorry and surprised 

to hear Mr. N[ ] speak thus. When a friend, one 

who has been considered such by the pubUc, admits 
that they have a doubt on any point concerning the 
individual for whom they are supposed to be friendly 
inclined, it does the person more harm than the loudest 
abuse of their open adversaries. The "whispered" 
cold word, or slight disapprobation of a "friend," is 
death to the cause he has advocated ; and the enemy 
rejoice in being able to say "their friend said so." I 

dare say Mr. N[ ] did not mean to say anjrthing which 

could do the poor Princess harm ; but it is dangerous to 
give the adverse party an inch of ground, lest they take 
an ell, and I thought of the Princess's own words : " My 
friends plague me more than my enemies." 

Some of the company present expressed their surprise 

Digitized by 



at the Princess having quarrelled with Sir William Scott, 
whom she once liked so much, and with whom she is 
now so displeased. " He Would have been," observed 
the Duchess, "such a champion for her, and now the 
Regent goes and dines with him." I replied, that I was 
certain, whatever fine worldly ladies, or foolish puppies 
who had their fortune to make, might say, people like 
Sir William Scott, the Master of the Rolls, or Sir Vicary 
Gibbs, and that style of men, would not have abandoned 
her interest for any Regent, if she had remained equally 
friendly to them. " Ah ! " exclaimed her Grace, " she 
had better have been on the pave, than connected with 

the 0[xfQrd3s, and Sir P[ ], and the other persons 

they brought her in contact with." — " Pardon me," 

observed another cross voice. Lady [ ^] ** they were 

respectable compared with others who were namedy as 
being permitted to live on terms of intimacy with Her 
Royal Highness. What do you think of Lawrence, 
the painter, for a Princess of Wales's admirer, and a 
Prince of Wales's rival ? " 

There was a dead silence, after this cruel and false 
remark, and I do not believe any one present liked Lady 

[ ] the better for having given vent to her spiteful 


They spoke of Mr. Brougham and Mr. Denman, and 
seemed to think the latter a truer friend to the Princess 
than the former. They asked me my opinion on the 
subject, and I said, that I believed Mr. Brougham wished 
to serve Her Royal Highness, and righi her in the esti- 
mation of the pubUc, and as a Royal person ; but that 
I thought that he had permitted himself frequently to 
speak of her as a private character, in private society, 
in a manner quite at variance with his declarations in 
his public speeches in her defence ; and that I knew he 
used to indulge his spirit of sarcasm on Her Royal High- 
ness's ridicukSj whenever he fdt inclined, and especially 

Digitized by 



at H[olland] House. He had often made her the butt 
of the dinner parties of beaux esprits collected at that 
rendez-vous of wits and poUticians ; whereas Denman, 
on the contrary, upheld Her Royal Highness, when speak- 
ing of her to his own most intimate friends ; thereby 

adding weight to his public defence of her. Mr. N[ ] 

corroborated the truth of my remarks, and added, that 
any other person similarly situated would have given 
Mr. Brougham as fine a field for the exhibition of his 
powers as a lawyer, and an orator ; and that it was the 
cause, and not the woman he was interested in. 

Thursday, lOth, — I received a letter from [ \ She 

is at Florence, and tells me some strange and imsatis- 
factory tidings of the Princess : 

At a small place called Borgo St. Domino, three days' 
journey from hence, what was my surprise to come up to a 
whole rabble rout belonging to the Princess of Wales. This 
consisted of twenty-four persons in all — six carriages and a 
baggage waggon. I saw no face that I knew ; many Italians 
and strange-looking persons of various nations; one fat 
woman. I heard there was one other female, but did not see 
her ; some said it was the Princess herself ; but I do not 
believe it was. There were seven piebald horses, and two 
little cream coloured ponies, that I well remember to have seen 
at Milan ; and two very fine horses that drew a chariot, 
which was entirely covered up. On passing one of the servants 
who had a better appearance than the rest, and seemed one 
of the principal persons, I inquired after Her Royal Highness's 
health, and expressed myself happy to hear she was well, 
but asked no other questions whatever. My servants told 
me that some of these persons declared they were going to 
join their Mistress at Pisa ; others said they were going to 
the sea coast to embark for America ; others that her Royal 
Highness was at Rome ; but they all difiered in their state- 
ments, and were evidently a low set of people. Many of the 
women were dressed up like Uinerant show players, and 
altogether looked quite unfit to be her attendants. I did not 

Digitized by 



see any person that I mistook for a gentleman : but my maids 
told me that they saw several men dressed in uniforms and 
swords, who looked like pages. I cannot tell you how strange 
it seemed to me to fall in with all this motley crew ; some- 
thing of regret too, mingled with the feeling — something of 
kindness towards that unhappy woman; for who can ever 
receive kindness and forget it ? and she was kind to me. 

Sir Thomas and Lady Freemantle are living here, in a 
magnificent palace, for which they only pay a hundred and 
fifty pounds a year. They are economical people, with a 
small fortune, and give me hopes that this place includes 
(as much as any place can), cheapness and pleasure. There 
is much to enjoy here, morally and physically. Such flowers ! 
such sunshine I such remembrances I 

I went with Lady W[estmoreland] to Cardinal Fesch's 
collection, in the Falconiere Palace, which is situated on 
the Tiber, and commands beautiful views of the river. 
The collection is so enormous that one should require to 
visit it many times before one can judge of its merits. 

Lady W[ ] made me accompany her from thence to 

the Doria Palace in the Corso — ^which is of beautiful 
architecture ; but to judge by the part which contains 
the pictures, it must, like all the Italian buildings I have 
ever seen, be totally inimical to domestic comfort. One 
apartment is filled by pictures in distemper, chiefly 
executed by Poussin. The designs are very grand, but 
there is an extreme rawness in their colouring. The 
Doria collection appeared to me, on a hasty survey, to 
be more choice and valuable than Fesch's. 

In the evening, went to Lady Saltoun's, and met 

Mr. A[ ]n, who is just arrived from Florence ; and 

in spite of my antipathy to him, he diverted me with 
his drollery. He described the Princess talking Italian 
with Leoni, and told me an excellent story, which I shall 
mar in the repeating ; but it is easy to turn every thing 

into ridicule.j^ Leoni was questioning^Mr. A[ Ji 

and the Princess concerning the reasons of Shakspeare*s 

Digitized by 



having been obliged to quit Warwickshire. " Madama^ 

said Leoni, (pronouncing the a in Mr. A[ ] as though 

he had a Jew's-harp between his teeth,) and addressing 
his question to her. "Signor," (was the reply,) Shake- 
speare ha fuggito per aver rubhato dei servi^^^ pronounc- 
ing the word cervi with an s. " Ma come ? " said Leoni, 
and here followed his astonishment, and mutual ex- 
planations. Now I can hardly believe this, but it served 

Mr. A[ 3n for an excellent story. He also spoke 

to me of the horrid Genoese tragedy of Lady 0[ ^s 

daughter, and talked of it rather more like a joke than 
anything else ; though he called it " horrible," and 
" shocking." It is melancholy to see any human being 
pervert thus every event and every sentiment, however 
melancholy the one may be, or however exalted the 
other ! and indeed such a caricaturist ceases to be a 
human being, and descends to the character of a monkey. 

Friday iiih. — ^To my surprise and pleasure, I met Mr. 

L[ ^]. The same elegance and superiority of mind 

which always characterised him remain imdiminished ; 
but he is much altered, I think, in appearance, and his 
hair is quite white. Yet, how superior he is to his 
wife! They have no mind in common, and he feels 
that want, and it has marred the happiness of both. I 
went with him to see Lawrence's portraits of Lady 
Burghersh and her son, who is a lovdy child ; and the 
picture is very pleasing ; yet after the mellowed tints 
of the old masters, there is a glare in the colouring, and 
a blue chalkiness, very much resembling the appearance 
of a tea-board. 

Mr. L[ ] introduced me to a friend of his. Sir [ ^], 

who appears to me, as far as one can judge in so short 
a time, a remarkably intelligent and agreeable person. 

I dined with them, and Sir [ ] related many anecdotes 

I could wish to remember. In speaking of Lord Chatham, 

Digitized by 



witl^ whom he was very intimate, he said : " From the 
moment of Lord Chatham's beatific vision of the King^ 
which preceded his entry into the Cabinet, he became 
intoxicated to a degree of absurdity with the honours 
of the court, with its etiquette, and all the gracious 
mummeries of the harem. He sank so instantaneously 
in my esteem, and even respect, that I could hardly 
look at him without contempt. Yet my desire to travel 
into Spain, where there were many things to attract my 
curiosity, and particularly the old libraries in the convents, 
where I hgped to meet with some of the lost classics, 
induced me to accept of Lord Chatham's proposal, that 
I should go out as secretary of the embassy which was 
to adjust the business of the Manilla ransom. Sir George 
Gray, the old envoy to Naples, and rather a favourite 
of the King's, was to be ambassador. Lord Chesterfield 

said, Pitt had sent Gray to divert the King, and [ ] 

to divert the Donnas of Spain. Another said: I know 
that you wiU be infatuated with the Donna Eleonoras 
de Guzmans, and the names you have tasted in romance ; 

but take care. Soon after this," continued Sir [ ], 

" my father was taken ill, and I was forced to rehnquish 
the situation, which afforded Gray the power of giving 
it to his nephew. Colonel Hope, which he wished very 
much to do. Etiquette was also brought forward as an 
objection to my fulfilling the views of the minister ; for 
it was said my rank entitled me to the Teros Longos, in 
Spain, and quarrels would arise from the confusion of 
Spanish and English notions of honour and dishonour. 
I very soon proved the truth of this in the corps diplch 
mcifique at London ; for the Comtesse de Sileira, the wife 
of the imperial ambassador, offered to put her hand upon 
my shoulder when I presented her my arm at a dinner 

, .cSir [ ] also said, with reference to Lord Chatham : 

•' At that time, I thought his whole system, intellectual 

Digitized by 



and bodily, bad undeigone a change for the worse, and 
the splendour of bis equipage, and the high aristocratic 
airs that he assumed, betokened a disorder in his ]udg« 
stent. On one occasion, when he came from Bath after 
a tedious fit of the gout, to appear in the House of Lords, 
he was detained some little time at Marlborough, where 
his bill at the inn ampunted to upwards of a hundred 
pounds, from the extravagant nmnber of his attendants, 
&c. ; and he Uved altogether in a style befitting a man of 
great estate ; so that in a very few years all that had 

been given him by the folly of P[ ] and the generosity 

of others, was wasted and destroyed, and he literally 
died a bankrupt, with six thousand a year, either from 
the pubUc or from legacies, after having risen from a 
comet of dragoons. He made a great exit,'* continued 

Sir [ ], " and died in character. What a lucky speech 

for his family was his last in the House of Lords ! I 
am persuaded, had not this accident cost him his life, 
he would have died out like an airy meteor, and left no 
trace behind him. Fortune, not prudence or foresight, 
regulates the affairs of this world. A man who for many 
years previously had been the execration of adminis- 
tration, and by no means the idol of opposition, was 
Bfter his death held up, by desire of a King who would 
not employ him but by necessity, and he was buried 
with the funeral pomp of a Prince. A more opident 
fortune also is bestowed upon his latest male posterity 
than even he himself enjoyed ; and all this is scarcely 
thought enough ! '* 

Sir [ ] is a most entertaining companion, and 

though far advanced in years, is not the least aged in 
mind, and has astuprising memory. He repeated several 
verses of an old French song, on tiie subject of divination, 
which I took down in my note book. 

This song was ascribed to the celebrated Duke de 
Choiseul, and performed with music at Chanteloup, in 

Digitized by 



derision of the famous Turgot (that truly excellent man) 
and his administration. The song has all the appearance 
of having been written by one who saw every event 
that should happen for eighteen years in France and 
in Europe; and if it had been a sacred orgie, would 
have been assumed as a proof of the divine authority 
of the religion in which it was employed.^ Perhaps you 
may have seen these verses, but I believe^they are not 
generally known. 




M. TURGOT, 1775. 

Sur Fair, La bonne av&niure, guSt 

Vivent tous nos beaux esprits 

Encyclop6distes I 

Du bonheur fran^ais £pris« 

Grands 6conomistes I 

Par leurs soins, au temps d'Adam, 

Nous reviendrons, c'est leur plan, 

Momus les assiste I o gu6 1 

Momus^les assiste I 

Ce n'est pas de nos bouquins 

Que vient la science ; 

En eux ces fiers paladins 

Ont la sapience. 

Les Colbert et les Sully 

Vous paraissent grands, mais fi 1 

C'^ait ignorance, o gu£ 

C'^tait ignorance I 

Digitized by 



: 3 

On veira tous les 6tats 
Entr' eiix se confondre. 
Les pauvres sur leurs grabats, 
Ne plus se morf ondre. ; 

Des biens Ton fera des lots : .\ 
Qui rendront les gens ^ux, 
Le bel oeuf k pondre 1 

Du mime pas marcheront 
Noblesse et roture ; 
Les Franfais retoumeront 
Aux droits de nature. 
Adieux parlemens et lois, 
Et Dues, et Princes, et Rois I 
La bonne aventure, o gai 1 
La bonne aventure I 

Plus de moines langoureux, 
De plaintives nonnes, 
Au lieu d'adresser aux cieux 
Matines et nones, 
Nous verrons ces malheureux 
Danser, abjurant leurs voeux. 
Galante chaconne, o gu^ 
Galante chaconne. 

Par les innovations, 
De mainte s^ueQe, 
La France, des nations 
Sera le modMe ; 
Et ces honneurs nous devrons 
Aux Turgots et compagnons 
Besogne inunortelle I o ga6 
Besogne immortelle. 

Digitized by 



A qui nous devrons le plus ? 
Cest k notre maitre, 
Qui se croyant un abus, 
Ne voudra plus I'etre. 
Ah I qu'il faut aimer le bieii. 
Pour de Roi, n'fetre plus rien, 
J'en verrais tout paitre, o gu^ ! 
J'en verrais tout paStre. 

Sir [ ] spoke with great enthusiasm of the late 

Lady Talbot of Barrington Park in Gloucestershire * — 
" Where," said he, " I sat till the Uttle hours of the 
morning, with that pleasant old lady in my young days 
over Burgundy negus, and heard all her anecdotes of 
the court of George 11. , and looked at many of her father's 
secretary Cardonnel's letters to the Duke and Duchess of 
Marlborough, which had been in the hands of Mallet the 
poet for the biography of the Duke. Lady Talbot once 
told me that she had frequently heard Queen Caroline 
talk with regret of her marriage with the Duke of Gordon 
having been prevented by the circumstance of his fortune 
being thought inadequate to her Dowager maintenance ; 
and when her husband's infidelity chagrined her, she 
would say, " Oh that I had been at Fochabers with the 
poor Duke of Gordon, rather than have been a Queen 
with such a misfortune." 

Sir [ '\ spoke with great kindness of the Princess of 

Wales, although he has a great weakness for the Prince. 
He said that he certainly thought Mr. Perceval had done 
the country harm, although he has an excellent private 

character, so moral and religious. Sir [ ] thought 

Perceval would have been likely to have brought about 
a reconciliation between the Prince and Princess ; at 

* Mary, daughter and heiress of Adam de Cardonnel, married, 1733. 
William, and Baron Talbot of Hensol. 

Digitized by 



least one that would have satisfied the public, and added 
to his popularity, of which the Regent stands in great 
need, for both he and Lord Yarmouth are just now the 
aversion of the mob, and cannot appear without being 

Saturday, 1.2th. — ^To-day I received letters from England, 

one from [ ], who is sta5mig at Grimsthorpe Castle. 

She saj^ : 

I spent a fortnight at Thomsby. It was almost retirement 

when I first went ; only Lord and Lady M[ "], Mrs. P[ 1 

and E[ "] staid ten days on their way to Scotland. Lord 

M[ "] is very old, and would much admire and amuse you, 

and tell you odd stories, that you oughi not to laugh at. But 

he and Lady M[ ] are goodness personified, and just the 

sort of people who ought to have a large forttme, not a farthing 
of which they spend in parade or ostentation, though they 
have every comfort and convenience, more for their friends 
than themselves, and pass their time in making and enjoying 
the comfort and happiness of all their dependents, servants, 
friends, and every living thing that surrounds them. Lady 

M[ ] has lived a great deal in the world, and knows every 

body, yet has not a grain of vanity or pretension. She never 
had any beauty to mislead her understanding occasionally, 

and has no prejudices or narrow-mindedness. Mrs. P[ ] 

is the most pleasant person I know in society ; I am always 
partial to her whenever I am thrown in her way, and I have 
a very high opinion of her, as I beUeve her to be thoroughly 
good and worthy, and am convinced of the contrary of every 

thing the world may say against her. E[ ] I think not 

much spoilt for a beauty, though I hear she is unpopular 

among the young ladies in London. Poor Lady B[ ]y 

is very ill and is gone to Brighton for warm sea baths. She 
has invited me to join her there, which I shall do with pleasure, 
for I delight in her society, though I have no partiality for 
" that sink for the lees of dissipation," as you call Brighton. 
The royal death, which is daily expected, will surdy make a 
great change in the Princess of Wales's situation. She will 
return, I should hope, instantly to England, and assume her 

Digitized by 



rightful position in society. People are already talking of 
what mourning will be worn for the poor dear old King, and 
some say it is to be purple and grey. Is not this an odd idea ? 
I think it is quite disgusting to hear people speaking of their 
black, or whatever other coloured gowns they are to wear 
when this event takes place, before fiie breath is out of their 
sovereign's body. An honest breath it is, and I feel inclined 
to say — God re-animate it ! for I do not see what benefit will 
accrue to the cotmtry by his death. The specimen his heir, 
the Regent, has given us of his character lutherto, does not 
promise us a very worthy monarch. This house is at present 

full of company. Mr. B[ ], a pretty Mrs. L[ ], Lord 

S[ "], Mr. NeviUe, the dancing Mr. Montgomery, who pla}^ 

on the clarionette, and does a variety of things and is agree- 
able, and sundry other nonentities, the dregs of the grandees 
who have been here. Greater magnificence was never seen 
than reigns throughout this castle. Servants and all depen- 
dents of the establishment are quite princely. But it is not 
the place to enjoy the society of the proprietors of the mansion, 
when they have such an abundance of visitors, to make the 
civil to ; which the master here does more tiian any host 
ever did, and certainly makes himself a slave to his guests. 
But believe me, you would not find him spoilt by the world, 
if you had opportimities of knowing and living with him, as 
I have had; — but those days are past. Au contraire, you 
would find him more the sort of person to answer to you 
than any one I have ever known. 

Did I ever tell you that a few daj^ before the Princess of 
Wales left London, I went to pay my respects to Her Royal 
Highness ? She was going out, and made me accompany 
her in her airing, and was very gracious. She is a pleasant 
creature, and I fdt all my pity for her return. But oh ! how 
madly she is behaving now ! what a provoking heroine she is ; 

for a heroine she certsunly is. All you told me of the B[ ^s 

and H[ ys conduct to her disgusted me. You need not 

say, " this world is full of meanness, hoUowness, and froth " : 
je le sais trap bien ; not a soul does an3^hing but for their 
interest or pleasure. In these days, royalty is not much the 
fashion to those who want nothing from it ; and those who 
do, see no immediate prospect of the Princess having anjrthing 
to give ; and are quite ready to take part against her, at her 

Digitized by 



husband's nod or implied command. I hear that when the 
Prince offered her, two years ago, an additional allowance to 
her income, if she would leave England, she refused the pro- 
position with the greatest indignation, and said she would 
only accept a proper situation and a habitation befitting 
his wife, and threw out a hint that she would like to Uve in 
Carlton House. But I cannot beheve this ; it is so at variance 
with her subsequent conduct. I was never more disgusted 
with the press, that organ of the pubUc voice, than when» 
after the cities of London, Westminster, and all the other 
towns, voted her an address unanimously, the newspapers, 
after all the abuse of the " unfortunate," '' ill-advised " " iU- 
judging " Princess, — ^that this same press, because they dared 
no longer strive against the stream, made Her Royal Highness, 
of a sudden, come out an angel, and the Douglases devils I 

I am disgusted with the world, and with most persons in it. 
Selfishness is certainly the order of the day with aJl the world ; 
and as to affection and friendship, unless you have something 
to buy U with, you may as well expect to find a diamond in 
the street : and truth I think about as rare as good nature 
and benevolence. And there you have my opinion of the 
world ! (the present company, alias, writer and reader, always 

As to myself, I hope soon to emigrate to Italy. Your 
descriptions of Rome make me impatient to be there. I 
hope I may still find you a resident in that dty ; for I shrink 
from finding myself alone amongst strangers. There is a 
period of life when I think it quite impossible to form new 
affections or friendships, and I am fast approaching to that 

How mean Lord C[holmondeley ?] showed himself in that 
lawsuit ! and what a noble contrast Mrs. D[amer]'s conduct 
was on that occasion ! I hear Lady Waldegrave abuses her, 
and says she cheated her out of, and behaved very ill about. 
Strawberry Hill, and suppressed the papers from Lady 

W[ ] and never had the least right to the place. But this 

was told me by Lady P[ ], who puzzles every thing. 

By the way, she is quite an a«/»-Princess, and swears she is 
acquainted with a daughter of her Royal Highness, who 

lives at Diurham I I have a great mind to set [ '\ at her. 

My dear, — I should just Uke to be a grandee, to have the 

Digitized by 



liberty of having an opinion which would be listened to, and 
which I think just as good as that of my betters. 

There is a book advertised, called " Perjury and something 
else refuted, (or some such title,) by Her Royal Highness the 
Princess of Wales," at full length. What can it mean ? I 
think it below her dignity to pubUsh, (not a novel, if it amuses 
her, and what an amusing book it would be !) but a book about 
herself ; and yet they tell me nobody can dare to advertise 

a book in anybody's name. I suppose H[ ] will see to it, 

and contradict the blockheads who will believe the catch- 
penny. There is no news afloat in London just now ; so I 
will not add more than that, 

I am yours, etc. 

I went to the Rospigliosi Palace, which is situated on 
the Quirinal Hill. In a paviUon in the garden^ on the 
ceiling of the first entrance hall, is the famous Aurora 
of Guido, so often copied, and so much spoken of ; but 
copied and spoken of in vain ; for till I saw the original, 
I knew not what it was. The poetry of this picture 
exalts the imagination ; while gazing on it, we hail the 
coming day, and feel the freshness of the morning breezes. 
The fleetness-of the coursers of the chariot are finely 
indicated by their manes blowing one way, together with 
the draperies, while the torch of Hesper blows the other. 
But in speaking of the advance of day, Dryden' says 
that the chariot of the sun 

With winged speed outsteps the morning wind, 
And leaves the breezes of the mom behind. 

Beauteous it is, that ray of running hght. 
That beam of day unclouded and serene. 
That dancing sunbeam, emblem of delight ! 
Which leaves no space for shade to intervene. 

The collection of pictures in this palace is so small, 
that it hardly deserves the name ; but there is one 
glorious Domenichino ; the subject, David with Goliath's 

Digitized by 



From thence I went to Raphael's villa, vulgarly so 
called, because he painted some frescoes on its walls ; 
but it belonged to the family of Mazarini. This villa 
is but a mean building ; but it commands an exquisite 
view : St. Peter's, the long line of the Vatican, the back 
of the Villa Medicis, which stands on the Pincian Hill, 
and resembles the buildings so often seen in Claude's 
landscapes, and which is introduced purposely in that 
one from his pencil which is in the Florence gallery. 
All these objects form a picture, from wherever they are 
seen ; and around the house there is a profusion of wild 
flowers. The fresh green grass was literally studded 
with violets and anemones. An old mjnrtle tree, whose 
thick and ancient stem justified the fancy I hked to in- 
dulge, has one perhaps which existed in the artist's 
time. I could have loitered away hours in this wild 
bower, which is well calculated to be that of its sister 
muse. There are two very lovely frescoes on the ceiUng 
of one of the rooms, said to be from the pencil of Raphael. 
The subject of one of them is the marriage of Alexander 
and Roxana, the other a band of cupids shooting at a 
mark. There is a melancholy beauty in this httle 
n^lected spot ; and were it not for that unseen demon 
the malaria, I could have wished to pass a summer there ; 
but the pestilence is rife in that part of the suburbs. 

I dined at Lady W[ Js. There were only Sir H. and 

Lady Davy, Mr. and Mrs. Dodwell, General Ramsay, 
and the Comte Korsakoff ; and they were all particularly 
dull and silent. 

Mondayy 14th, — I went to be presented to the Pope 
in the sacristy at St. Peter's. He is a fine old man in 
his personal appearance, and has given proofs of more 
greatness of soul than most men in his conduct towards 
Bonaparte. Myself and several other English persons 
prostrated ourselves at his feet, and felt no degradation 

II ^ E 

Digitized by 



by the homage. His countenance is very benign, and 
there is much of that calm in his expression, which is 
not of this world. 

St. Peter*s is a miraculous building. Like all truly 
beautiful things, I did not like its decorated walls at 
first, but the interest it excites grows upon the feelings. 
Its vastness, its gorgeous ornament, the temperature 
of the air, which resembles that of eternal spring, all 
these make it a place of an almost ideal character. It 
seems the creation of some bUssful soul, framed in a 
moment of grateful admiration to the Deity, when all 
the light of heavenly love and glory shone forth, to 
impart the conception of a temple more perfect than 
man had ever conceived before. The mercies and not 
the terrors of the Lord reign here ; Hope, and Faith, 
and Charity hang their golden lamps aroimd, and shed 
down all that can enliven spiritual bliss in mortals. 

From St. Peter's I went to see the Duchess of D[evon- 

shire]. Heard the mellow tones of Madame R[ Js 

divine voice, and talked to her husband. He appears 
gentle, and seems sensible ; yet they do not convey to 
me the idea of living happily together. She is very 
unhappy, and more so I think than mere poverty could 

make her. — C[ ] S[ ] came in whilst I was there. 

She is transmogrified into an Italian, and married to 

General St. A[ ]o. In her personal appearance she is 

improved ; but it was very melancholy to me to think of 
her excellent father and mother, and the situation and 
advantages she had in England, moral and physical, 
being all resigned. I am not by any means a John Bull 
in the broad sense of the word, yet I did not spare her 
on this subject. Her calm determined mode of answer- 
ing me, her apparent composure of happiness, offered a 
wonderful field for fancy to expatiate upon. I do not 
yet read her motives ; but it is best now that they should 
not be changed. 

Digitized by 



I went with the Duchess to see Lawrence's magnificent 
portraits of the Pope and Cardinal Gonsalvi. They 
are his chefs-d'ceuvre I think. The only English news 
I heard was, that Lord W[orcesterrs marriage with 
Miss F[itzro]y is certainly to taJce place. The Duchess 
said she heard his family are much displeased with him : 
and, added she, as he is not very wise, and as her family 
are very clever, it is supposed he has been taken in. 
However, I hear he appears to like her very much, and 
at the ball at D[evonshire] House, the night of the day of 
his arrival from Paris, he waltzed with her the whole of 
the evening. " By the way,'* said the Duchess, " there 
were two thousand persons asked to that ball.'* Lady 

C. P[ ] was the great belle ; — ^but I do not like such 

crowded parties, and do not understand others doing so. 

On my return home I foimd a long letter from Madame 
D[ ] from Naples. 

II me tardait bien, [ ^], d'apprendre votre arrivfe k 

Rome. Tous les jours j'en attendais la nouvelle, et ne la 
voyant pas venir, j'imaginais que les pr6sens avaient chass6 
les absens de votre souvenir. Vous m'avez tir6 de cette erreur 
d'une mani^re iihs aimable. Tous les d6tai]s que vous me 
donnez m^int^-essent beaucoup, et m'afiSigent en meme temps. 
Chacun a ses soucis dans ce monde ; et en parler n*est pas 

murmurer. II ^tait inutile, [ ], d'all6guer cette raison 

pour excuser un ^panchement que je regardais comme une 
preuve d'amiti^. Vos sentimens sur les Fran^ais sont bien 
jttstes. Malheureusement les bons payent les fautes des 
mauvais. Parmi cette foule d'individus m6prisables il y en a 
plusieurs de trte respectables : j'ai appris & en connattre ici, 
qui me font soufirir de V6tat d'humiUation oil leur nation se 
trottve. n est vrai que leur nombre n'est pas bien grand : — 
il se borne k la famiUe et i la mission du Comte de Blacas. 
En lisant ce nom vous allez jeter des hauts cris; mais 
seriezvous assez injuste pour la^ser influencer votre opinion 
par celle d'un publique presque toujours partial? Et ne 
pardonnez-vous.pas k un homme droit, plein de probit6 et 
d'honneur, de s'Stre oubli6 en passant rapidement de Tabtme 

Digitized by 



de radversit6 au plus haut point d'Si^vation, et d'avoir €ti 
fier avec des gens qu'il avait tout lieu de m6priser ? Sa 
femme n'aura surement pas €t6 envelopp6e dans la haine 
qu'on a vg\i6 au mari. EUe est trop douce et trop bonne pour 
ne pas s'attirer la bienveillance g6n6rale. Tons les soirs je 
les vois, et leur soci6t^ est ma plus grande ressource. La 
Princesse Grasalkowich aime trop le monde pour venir fr£- 
quemment chez moi. Cependant nous nous faisons des 
visites dans le courant de chaque semaine, et nous nous 
rencontrons aux bals. Votre ministre en donne des char- 
mans (agr6mens qui sont plus appr6ci6s par d'autres que par 
moi). Je le trouve aimable, et le crois un bien digne et galant 
homme. J'esp^e que votre parlement ne sera pas assez in- 
juste pour lui donner le tort dans sa conduite envers Lord W. 
Bentinck. Est-ce que vos droits tant vantfe ne mettraient 
pas le juste k I'abri de la poursuite des puissants ? On dit 
que le Due de Portland s'agite beaucoup en faveur de son 
fir^e. S'il r^ussit je vous engage i ne me parler jamais de 
la bont6 d'un gouvemement capable de porter des jugemens 
aussi uniques. 

Mademoiselle M[ ] passe sa vie presque chez la Comtesse 

T[ ], une de mes compatriotes. Vous aurez sdrement 

entendu parler de la querelle qui est survenue k la suite de 
son s^jour avec la Princesse de Galles k Como. Croyez-moi, 
[ 1 etc. 

Tuesday, 15th. — Dined with Sir [ ] who gave a 

dinner to the Duchess [ ], and all the EngUsh ladies 

sta3nng at Rome. There was general conversation at 
table ; — ^there seldom is, where women are, — at least 
not what deserves the name of conversation; but in 
the evening I sat apart with our host, and was much 
entertained by him. He had this day received a letter 
from his friend, the great Mrs. Siddons, and in speaking 
of her, he told me his impression on seeing her on the 
stage for the first time, It was at Edinburgh, in the play 
of the Carmelite. " A poor play,** said he, " conveying 
no sentiment of pity, terror, or moral reflection — the 
spawn of a vitiated taste ; but affording an opportunity 

Digitized by 



to a wonderful actress to elevate, by her creative genius, 
the most insipid subject, and to put her unbounded 
popularity to the test of a discerning audience. When 
I became personally acquainted with Mrs. Siddons,'* 
he continued, " I a^ed how she felt when she ventured 
to alter the sleeping scene after the murder of Macbeth." 
She replied, that after having repeatedly studied the part 
with attention, and being convinced that she had followed 
nature in the mode of her performance, she acted the 
part without fear, in opposition to the opinion of the best 
judge. Young Sheridan, especially, remonstrated with 
her immediately before the performance of this play, 
on the force of custom and stage prejudice ; advising her 
to give up the point ; — but as soon as the scene had 
closed, he flew to congratulate her on its successful effect, 
and the applause of the best judges who were present. 
John Brown,, the painter, asked her if she thought it 
necessary, in order to produce a stage effect on the 
I audience, that the part should be acted above the truth 

V of nature ? — She paused a Httle, and then replied, " No, 
Sir, but undoubtedly up to nature in her highest colours : 
otherwise, except we performed to audiences composed of 
such persons as I have now the honour to be conversing 
with, the effect would not be bold enough in the boxes» 
nor even in the pit. But to you. Sir, who are a painter, 
a judge of paintings, I need not explain myself more 
particularly on this point." 

" The second time I saw Mrs. Siddons act, was in the 
character of Maigaret in the Earl of Warwick, and I 
thought her greater in that part ; but the third time," 

continued Sir [ ], " when I attended Miss Kemble's 

benefit, and saw her in the comic part of Lady Townly, 
I thought she would have done complete justice to the 
character, if she had not lowered it, with a view I suppose 
to deviate from the manner of Mrs. Yates, and Mrs. 
Abingdon ; and there was a tone of pathos, which the 

Digitized by 



habit of high tragic performance gave to her voice, and 
which, as it could not be dispelled, but by leaving the 
buskin, more than the pubUc or her own inclinations 
would permit, so I wished her never to lose it, although 
perhaps unsuited to the part. I meant to have seen her 
herself again, in Mrs. Beverley ; but I staid too late at a 
dinner party, to go in time to the play, and I revolted 
at the thought of seeing her act the fine lady in the inter- 
lude of .£sop in the shades. Who would have wished to 
see Sir Isaac Newton auditing the accounts of the mint ? 
or who would enter into the enjoyments of a catch or a 
glee sung by Lord Chief Justice Mansfield ; a solo on the 
German flute by the King of Prussia ; or a fandango 
danced by the Empress of Russia ? '* 

I could not help laughing at the droll conclusion to 

Sir [ ys remarks on Mrs. Siddons. When I asked him 

if the theatrical air and manner of speaking did not mar 
her powers of pleasing in private society, and had not 
often rendered her liable to the ridicule of persons far 
beneath her in every respect, he answered — " Oh ! yes, 
frequently ; I once heard her myself ask for the salad 
bowl, in a tone of voice, and with an emphasis on the 
personal pronoun, which made every body at table laugh. 
She said, * Give tne the bowl,* with a grandeur worthy of 
Lady Macbeth, but which sounded ridiculous when so 

apphed.** I further questioned Sir [ ] as to her being 

vain. "Was she so, (I said,) to the inordinate degree 
of which she has been accused ? '* " Certainly," he repUed, 
" she is aware of her unrivalled talent as an actress ; and 
she has often betrayed that she is so, in a manner so 
simple, but so injudicious, that persons have been glad 
to seize upon the foible and magnify it tenfold ; whereas 
Mrs. Siddons's knowledge of her own genius is as impartial 
an opinion as though she entertained it of some other 
individual than herself. Yet I must allow I have heard 
her express herself in a manner which I regretted for her 

Digitized by 



sake ; knowing the injustice she did her own character 
by similar speeches ; of which I remember one specimen 
which startled me, I confess, when I heard her give it 
utterance. A lady took her little girl with her one day, 
that she might be able to boast when she grew up that 
she had seen Mrs. Siddons ; and the latter taking the 
child's hand, said in a slow and solemn tone of voice : 
* Ah ! my dear, you may well look at me, for you will 
never see my like again.' " 

When Sir [ ] told me this anecdote, I could not help 

shrugging my shoulders, and saying, it would have been 
better had Mrs. Siddons allowed some one else to make 
the remark ; for although it was perfectly true, it came 
not well from her lips. The entrance of Lawrence the 
painter stopped our conversation for a moment or two ; 

and Sir [ '\ shook his head as looking towards him, he 

said to me, ^^Ah, he knows more about Mrs. Siddons 
than any one." " So I should imagine," I replied. " Was 
she in love with him ? " I asked. " Decidedly not," and 

added Sir [ "}, "no man ever behaved more cruelly to 

a woman than Sir Thomas did to Mrs. Siddons's daughter ; 
the one that died of a broken heart on his account. There 
never was a greater male coquet than is our celebrated 
countrjnnan yonder." I returned to Mrs. Siddons, and 

asked Sir [ ] in what character he thought she excelled. 

His reply was, — " Without doubt in Lady Macbeth she 
far surpassed Mrs. Pritchard, (whom I had also seen 
perform the part, when I was a boy,) particularly in the 
scene preceding and following the murder of the King ; 
and the sleeping scene of remorse, which was her own 
conception, was glorious. It was not fair, however, to 
compare these two great actresses together, because Mrs. 
Pritchard's figure was clumsy and wanted the dignity 
necessary for that lofty character." 

Sir [ — -] told me, he was in great alarm for his friend 
the Duchess of G[ordo]n, who he had heard was seriously 

Digitized by 



indisposed.* " She is a good soul," he said, " and will be 
a great loss to the ungrateful world of fashion, who have 
profited by her brilliant assembhes, and been more nobly 
entertained under her roof than by almost any other lady 
of equal consequence in her time ; yet it has laughed at 
the good Duchess, because she is not varnished over with 
the polish of refinement." 

'' But is Her Grace not very deficient in high breeding ? " 
I asked. 

" Never on essential points," was his reply ; " for 
good-hearted feeling has always prompted her manners 
and speech ; but rude and rough in direct she was, espe- 
cially on her first arrival in London after her marriage ; as 
a well known reply of hers to George III. testifies. When 
he inquired how she liked London the Duchess answered, 
* Not at all, your Majesty ; for it is knock, knock, knock, 
all day ; and friz, friz, friz, all night ' : alluding to the 
mode of dressing the hair in those days." 

Wednesday y the 16/A. — I received letters from England, 
one from Lady [ \ a]^melancholy specimen of a dis- 
appointed mind. She has sought for happiness in pursuits 
which seldom answer. Of all the unsatisfactory modes of 
spending existence, that of a toady to people of higher 
rank and fashion than ourselves is the most so ; and how 
a sensible, well informed gentlewoman like my corre- 
spondent could ever have become one of that species, I 
do not] understand. Certainly it never failed more com- 
pletely to any one than it has done to her ; and her letter 
is a striking proof of the truth of the observation. 

I have nothing [she says] to write of about myself. I 
lead a most unprofitable life, contrary equally to my pleasure 
and approbation; but only because it is less comfortless 
than any other I could substitute in its stead ; and my life, 

^ She died April 11, 1812. This letter is misplaced chronologically 
like so many of the others. 

Digitized by 



vrill wear away in expecting to find a degree of comfort and 
happiness which every day makes appear more distant. I 
go about from "pillar to post," because it distracts more 
than amuses me, and because it is less disagreeable than 

remaining at home. I dine often with Lady W. G[ ] ; she 

seldom has any ladies beside ourselves. Her favourites are 

Lord H[ 1 Lord S[ ] and Lord W[ 1 and the. want 

of form in her house, both suit and divert me. The last 

drawing room and fete gave Miss G[ ] the jaundice, and 

she looked very far from pretty with that disease ; yet she 

would shew herself just as usual. Lady [ Ys conduct 

to me is of the same stamp as the Regent's ; who, d-propos 
de hoUes, picked me out, and for a series of years shewed me 
the most marked civility and kindness, without the smallest 
variation of manner ; and I of course was as flattered and 
set up, as any person could be who had both their vanity 
and interest concerned in the affair : — ^when, for an equally 
mysterious reason, he tired of this, and much abated in his 
kindness ; he chose, as they say in Scotland, to have the 
first word of flyteing — ^walks across a room, when he sees the 

Duke of C[ ] asking me how I do — says, he had long 

thought I had been fond of himself, but now I have quite 
cut him, and never think of him — ^that I am very inconstant, 
but am wise to take a lover so much younger and handsomer 
than himself — ^and he makes over all his rights in me to his 
brother. I of course grin at this royal wit — ^tell His Ro3ral 
Highness how much he had given me up, and how much I 
have regretted the honour being withdrawn from me. He 
replies, it is not true — ^that I know how inconstant I have 
been — ^and he makes me feel the joke in earnest by never 
looking at me again, and shewing me every marked morti- 
fication. Lady [ ^], on her part, after gradually with- 
drawing herself from a person who was never separated 
from her in all the most interesting and affecting moments 
of her life — ^who was her confidant in the most momentous 
scenes of her existence, and attended her husband's death- 
bed — situations that unite one more closely than any common 
worldly acquaintance, however intimate — ^now rarely sees 
or writes to me. Yet we have not^quarrelled. I wish to 
heaven we had, for coolness between friends is worse than 
the most fierce wrath. I could bear it better than this unseen 

Digitized by 



spirit of unkindness and caprice dividing us. Yet I have 
no right to be angry with her ; she has done me no wrong — 
she has broken no bond of faith or confidence with me ; yet 
I am as bitterly disappointed, and feel, perhaps, a keener 
anguish than if she were my declared enemy. It is such a 
mortification to find a person one had looked up to as very 
superior, and very much more delightful than the rest of 
the world — on a par with their fellow beings in heartlessness ; 
especially to prove that the creature we loved, and whom 
we had hoped loved us in return, did not care about us. It 
is so provoking to have wasted affection on an ungrateful 
object. Forgive me, my dear, for saying so much about my 

own feelings. Lady [ ] would be glad if I wrote her long 

histories of news and gossip ; but she displays no reciprocity 
of confidence ; so our correspondence is gradually dying 
away. I wish it were quite at an end ; for to write of the 
world — of la pluie et U beau temps — ^to a person who was used 
to tell you the smallest secret of their soul — ^it makes one feel 
so strange, so awkward. To write a common-place letter, in 
which the only forbidden subjects are the interests and 
feelings of the writer and the person they are addressing, is 
a wearisome and a heart-sickening task ; and I should feel 
more at ease now, a great deal, with the old Queen in a 

Ute-a-Ute, than writing or being written to by Lady [ ]. 

And now to other matters. You ask me if I ever remarked 
or thought about the Princess of Wales's letter to her husband ? 
Of course I did. It was a subject on which every one spoke, 
and I heard it either abused or commended at the time of 
its appearance, just according to party ; so few people are 
there that judge for themselves in the world. But every 
one, you must remember, on the occasion of the Princess's 
publishing that letter, agree in saying that Her Royal High- 
ness did not write it ; that she was only made the tool of a 
party. All the Prince's friends said it was written by Mr. 
Brougham ; but as they chose to consider it " so horrid," 
she might have been the more obliged to them for taking it 
from her. I thought at the time, I remember, that all the 
letter said respecting herself, and the not being permitted 
to see her daughter, excellent ; but that it was rather long, 
rather submissive, and rather too kind, which looked hke 

Digitized by 



Who could believe she can hope it will be a long time before 
her daughter reigns, or that she could be " His Roj^ High- 
ness's affeUhfuUdy " at the end ? " TotOes viriUs ne sani 
pas bonnes ^ dire** ; but one need not go out of one's way to 
tell falsehoods ; and from H. R. H. the flourish about con- 
firmoHon could not come from the heart. But the violence 
with which some persons abused the letter in foU>, rather made 
me defend it. lliis was not following the advice the poor 
Princess gave for me to you ; but I had been too often dis- 
appointed to expect any good from the Regent ; and I should 
have said what I thought to His Roj^ Highness himself, if 

he had asked me. I told Lady [ ] my whole history with 

regard to his conduct to me the other day, in hopes tl^t she 

might repeat it in an idle moment to Lord [ ] and it might 

come roimd to his royal ears. I dare say it never will, but 
it was for my private satisfaction, as the Princess published 
her letter. Not that I have the least hope of redress from 
it ; for the asking me to the next ball would be an expensive 
sort of retribution I should make nothing by. Should the 
opportunity, (which from all you teU me, I do not think 
likely,) ever occur of your being able to let the Priness know 
I never courted the Regent, and have no reason therefore to 
be " despised," I should be glad she knew it. No, on the 
contrary, it was he that made up to me. I never coaxed 
him half as much as I have done herself. I knew the Princess 
before I knew him ; I thought Her Royal Highness in those 
days most fascinating and amusing; and she could have 
twisted me round her fingers if she had taken the trouble. 
But she never was to me more than barely civil; which she 
continued to be for some time in a uniform way. But lately, 
before His Royal Highness's departure for the continent, 
she ceased to be even that. But she was entitled to leave 
off civility towards me ; for she never took me in by a show 
of regard and approbation. If the Princess calls courting 
people asking things from them for dire necessity, she may 

remen^ber Lady [ ] made an appUcation about me to 

herself ; — a great exertion on Lady [ ^]'s part, who hates 

to ask favours and be refused. I was ready faithfully and 
honestly to have served any body that chose to have me ; 
but am certainly most obliged to the person who never raised 
false hopes in my mind. Now I may say, blessed are they 

Digitized by 



who expect nothing, for they cannot be disappointed ! If 
the Prince or Princess were to take me to their bosoms, and 
give me the greatest place they could command, so certain 
am I of never enjoying any pleasure or blessing in this world, 
that I should be convinced they would die the next day after 
bestowing it, and I be dismissed by the opposite party. So 
en naif do I see every thing, that no piece of good fortime 
could befal me that I could beUeve was anything but a deceit. 
And now I will release you from this sad and stupid letter, 
and remain 

Yours &C. 

After perusing the above, I certainly did feel inclined 
to wish my poor friend would not inflict such long and 
melancholy epistles upon me, for they give one the blue 
devils, and impart some of their sombre and dissatisfied 
spirit to one self. Yet I blame myself for encouraging 
this aversion to hearing what is disagreeable or melancholy, 
for there is nothing which renders a character so useless 
and worthless as encouraging a morbid sensitiveness ; 
it is the business of life to suffer 

The tenderness for other's pain. 
Their feeling for their own. 

I was glad when Sir [ ] came and changed the current 

of my thoughts, and we had a most agreeable walk and 
conversation together. We met Torlonia the banker, 

which brought to Sir [ ys recollection an anecdote, 

highly characteristic of the nature of that worthy citizen. 
At the time of the first French revolution, it is said he 
discovered an old guillotine, which he sold for a good 
price, and which was the conunencement of his wealth. 
It was a ludicrous, and at the same time, a horrible basis 

to build up a fortune by. Sir [ ] knows a story about 

every one, yet he never tells an ill-natured anecdote in 
an ill-natured manner. I paid him the compliment of 
making this observation to himself, and he was both 
pleased and amused with my saying so, for he had 

Digitized by 



happened that very day to receive the same commenda- 
tion in a letter from England, from Lady C. L[amb], 
which he pulled out of his pocket and showed me. It is a 
strange specimen of that strange person's epistolary style. 

Sir [ ] is exceedingly partial to Lady C. L[amb], and 

thinks her both amiable and clever, though eccentric. 
I asked him to let me have a copy of the letter in question, 
to put into my collection of court correspondence, and 
he allowed me to have the original. 

Copy o/^Lady C. L[am]b's Letter io Sir [ \ 

You end your letter by a question, and I begin mine by 
an answer. You say : " Are you ill-natured ? " No heart 
ever was nobler, kinder, better; and that God may bless 
you and yours is all I have to say« 

Ever most truly yours, 

(Though we seldom meet,) 

C. L[am]b, 

I inquired of Sir [ '] if he thought Lady C. L[amb] 

merited the abuse of which the world had been so lavish. 
He replied, " No, but she has been most imprudent, and 
she is eccentric. Misdemeanours are never forgiven by 
the world, though very often actual crimes are sufiered 
to pass without reprehension. As in the case of the 
Princess of Wales, it is more likely to be a whim that will 
betray her into the hands of her enemies, than any deed 
of sin or shame.'' 

RoMB, January i, 1816. 

Since I last wrote in my journal, I have been on ex- 
cursions to the environs of the city, which have afforded 
me great delight. 

I received yesterday several letters from England ; all 
of them containing kind congratulations on the new year ; 
but some of them conveying to me melancholy tidings ; 
especially one from Lady A[ ], who says. 

Digitized by 



You are right, in my mind, to continue in a warm climate, 
I wish I did not feel certain that having once enjoyed it you 
will never wish to come to this freezing world again. I own 
I know no charm England possesses, or at least, the fine 
world of England. To me it is a desert. The few I meet 
and like at all are foreigners. To be much sought after in 
London, you must keep open house, have great spirits, and 
youth. Now the two latter I have lost ; and the great 
house I find useless ; for misfortune upon misfortune pursues 
us, and we are not sure from day to day what is to happen. 

Poor H[ ys state is without hope, though he may go on 

hving these two months ; and the anguish of seeing a being 
one loves wasting by slow degrees, is too much for any one 
to endure. Added to that, I am obliged to go out with 

[ ] whose age makes it proper to have her see and be seen ; 

and, as her poor mother may linger for months, this unfortu- 
nate event may not take place till the end of the year, when, of 
course, she could not go out ; so that if she is not presented 
this year, she may not till late in the next. Besides, I am 
really fearful that her spirits will suffer, it she has not a little 
amusement. She has not, for these five years, witnessed 
any thing but misery. She is very handsome and much 
admired. I cannot tell you how my feelings revolt against 
going into the world under these circumstances ; but do 
not make me any reply on the subject when you write. 

Another letter from Sir W. Gell made me laugh in 
spite of mj^f , though after reading the former, I was ill 
able to enjoy the sunshine of his happy temperament. 
What a blessing it is to a person to be possessed of a good- 
hmnoured disposition ! It lightens sorrow, and adds to 
joy. It is most praiseworthy and delightful to see how 
in this instance it enables Sir William to combat against 
the oppression of ill health, and to maintain a cheerful 
demeanour under his many trials. He writes from 

Bologna, December 27. 

My dear , — ^To a person of my romantic turn rSduU 

hy di dixeUe * of legs, and now of arms, to the fireside, it is a 

* An humble imitation of our royal^lady's orthography. [Original 

Digitized by 



great comfort to have escaped from that land of wine, houses 
and carts, and Wooden shoes, and neckless children, and to 
find mysdf once more in Italy, and to be able to leave my 
painful hind leg or arm for a moment out of bed, without 
finding it frost bitten. France, and the passage through 
it, entirely frozen up, and without sun for five days, seems 
as if it had settled my opinion for ever on the subject of 
the pleasures of the other side of the Alps ; and the horror 
I have of your Apennines prevents my passing through Rome, 

which I should I^e to do, that I might see you and the [ ]. 

But perhaps they also are not there. 

Well, I hope you will remember how long I have threatened 

you with its "oB" coming out on the trial. The [ ] 

never would believe it ; but you must all be tried some day 
or other, and I don't see how you could have had it in merrier 
company ; for I will answer for it, ours was much the gayest 
party during the whole progress of the royal tour. Indeed 
we laughed so loud sometimes that it was said to have dis- 
turbed the house. I conclude you will have seen my Lady 

C[ ]y who may not have given you so gay an account. 

But I was present in person till I feU ill, and was turned off 
as useless. The fact is, that for six weeks I was obUged to 
be in bed or in the fire, and Doctor H[olland] fairly had me 
carried to a chaise and packed off, wUch has recovered me 
in a great degree, so as possibly to enable me to drag through 
another year or two in this world with difl&culty ; when I 
shall coi^ess my sins to you, die a good christian, and be 
buried in a piidc velvet dressing gown, and a gold-fringed 
night-cap, like Sir Brooke Boothby. 

C[ ]y not being iH, was left in London, a weeping 

beauty, but expects to get off after going in procession to 
St. Paul's, and singing a Te Deum Laudamus, or as she 
calls it a Tedium for Laudanum — ^for deliverance from all 
your enemies. 

I will trouble you for that, ma'am, with a grand Lord 
Mayor's procession. Marry, come up ! we don't intend to 
take things as we have done. A short Ufe and a merry one 
is the motto now ; for the Ministers have set up the Radicals 
and pulled down the Lords by their own consent, and the 
King now, good man, denies it all, and says, what rascals 
they are, for he never can keep them out of a scrape ! You 
know, however, when you have got the game at Pope Joan 

Digitized by 



in your hands, if you cannot remember what are stops you 
may yet lose it. They say, they have no hope, however, 
but in provoking her to an act of high treason. But some 
of their own people tell me, that if they should, she is strong 
enough to say openly, " No, I did not do so, but I now will." 
Was there ever such a set of idiots ! — My letters to-day 
here say there is more general enthusiasm than ever — stronger 
addresses, and counties joining. Cra. [Craven] says his cousin 
of Buckingham has been nearly smothered with mud in his 
own borough. The Bishop of Landafi, who spoke against 
the divorce, and then voted for it, has been well rolled in 
the mud, &c., &c., &c. Lord, ma'am, vat vicked times does 
ve poor folks hve in ! Never vas sich times to be sure ! I 
am quite sorry I don't see you, particularly as I dare say 
you will soon think it your duty to go and pray three times 
as much as you now do for a rheumatism in England. Adieu. 
Believe me 

Most truly and afiEectionately yours, 

Edmund Ironside. 

I visited Lady W[ ]. She was very much engrossed 

by some EngUsh news, which she had just received about 
Princess Charlotte's intended marriage with Prince 
Leopold. Her correspondent abuses the alliance, and 
throws out many dark hints against the bridegroom ; 
she even goes so far as to say that he has promised, if not 
fulfilled, another matrimonial engagement already ; and 
also that many persons think the Prince is only turned 
Protestant to obtain Princess Charlotte's hand. If these 

things are so, it is very melancholy. Lady W[ ] told 

me she knew for certain, that the R^ent had wished 
for another alliance, namely, with the Prince of Orange ; 
chiefly because he had promised to go hand in hand with 
him against the Princess of Wales. This coming round 
to the young Princess's knowledge, she peremptorily 
refused ever to hear his name proposed to her as a husband. 
" She is very much in love with Prince Leopold," ♦ said 

* She said to Mme. de Boigne : " You are right ; it is an uniisaal 
sight to see the heiress to a kingdom making a love match and giving 

Digitized by 



Lady W[ ] " and I think it will be a happy marriage/* 

Prince Leopold, it is reported, has promised to befriend 
and support his bride^s mother. I hope it may be so, 
and that he will fulfil his promises ; but a crown in the 
distance will make a man vow many things which, when 
he wears that crown, he will not perform. 

Lady W[ ] spoke of Doctor Nott in high terms 

and thinks he conducted himself with regard to his royal 
charge with great discretion. 

Lady C[ ] hints that Mr. Brougham intends to re- 
strict the Princess of Wales to thirty thousand pounds, 
and to employ the remainder in paying the debts ; and 
that the salaries of all her attendants must be diminished. 

Lady C[ ] says she told him how herself and Lady 

C. Campbell were situated, and only desired him to do 
what he considered to be most just and equitable by all 
the household. He has a difiicult task to perform, and 
she says he probably thinks that if he bears too hard 
upon her income, the Princess may do what she did 
before, viz., supersede the power of attorney and throw 
it all into more complaisant hands, which would ruin 
all the creditors though it would relieve Brougham of 
much trouble and vexation. 

" How I do wish," Lady [ ] continues in her letter, 

•* that we could do as well without our salaries as we can 
without our Court duties ! with what joy would we 
resign them ! I have lately received letters from my 
mother from Milan. She had dined once with her Royal 
Highness at Como, and once at Milan. I am sorry to 
say the accounts of the style of her attendants is very 

her hand where her heart is abready pledged. Perfect happiness is by 
no means common, and I shall be delighted U you will often come 
and observe it at Garemont." ..." She never missed an opportunity 
of displaying her opposition to her father's Government, and her 
personal hostility to her grandmother and aunts. She professed a 
warm afEection for her mother, whom she regarded as sacrificed to 
the desires of her family." [Memoirs, ii. 150.] 

n F 

Digitized by 



I dined with Sir [ ]. In speaking of Adam Smith, 

with whom he was intimately acquainted^ he said, that 
notwithstanding his great superiority of mind, he had 
his weaknesses, but that they were the weaknesses of a 
learned and a good man — a man more conversant with 
books than what is commonly called " the world." Sir 

[ ] added that Smith's mother, who was a most superior 

woman, impressed the Doctor's mind, when a boy, with 
the most correct and exalted principles of conduct, which 
he retained and improved to a degree exceedingly un- 
common. He was always of Doctor Young, the poet's 
opinion, that high worth was an elevated place — ^that it 
made more than monarchs can make — ^an honest man. 

*' I never," continued Sir [ ], " knew a man more 

amiable in this respect than Smith ; but when he met 
with honest men whom he hked, and who courted him, 
he would beheve almost any thing they said. The three 
great avenues to Smith were his mother, his books, and 
his political opinions. The conquest of him was easy 
through any of these channels ; and this came to be very 
soon known to the dolphins that played in the waters 
where sailed this great navigator in hterature. He 

approached," Sir [ ], observed, " to republicanism in 

his political principles, and considered a common-wealth 
as the platform for a good government ; hereditary succes- 
sion in the chief magistrate being necessary only to 
prevent the common-wealth from being shaken by 
ambition, or absolute power being introduced by the 
collision of contending parties. Yet Pitt and Dundas 
praised his books, and adopted some of its principles in 
Parliament ; and they sent him down from London, on 
his last visit, a Tory and a Pittite, instead of a Whig and 
a Foscite, as he was when he set out. By and b3re," Sir 
[— — 1 said, "the impression wore off, and his former 
sentiments returned, but unconnected either with Pitt 
or FoX; or any one else. I saw Adam Smith for the last 

Digitized by 



time, in the February that preceded his death. I said, 
on taking leave of tdm, that I hoped to see him often 
when I returned to town in the ensuing year ; in reply to 
which, he squeezed my hand and said, ' I may be alive 
then« and perhaps for half a dozen years to come, but you 
will never see your old friend any more. I find that the 
machine is breaking down, so that I shall be httle better 
than a mummy.' I found a great inclination to visit 
him when I heard of his last illness, but the mrnnmy 
stared me in the face, and I desisted." 

» Sir [ 3 continued to say, " Smith's misplaced aflec* 

tion for Hume and others of his caste hindered him, I 
believe, from being a Christian. From the same foible I 
have already described, he had no ear for music, nor any 
just perception of the sublime or the beautiful in poetry. 
He was too much of a geometrician to have much taste 
in the fine arts, though he had the justest perception of 
moral beauty and excellence. He was replete with anec- 
dotes, and a highly amusing companion. One anecdote, 
I remember, he told me of Dr. Johnson, of whom Smith 
entertained a very contemptuous opinion. ' I have seen 
that creature,' said he, ' bolt up in the midst of a mixed 
company, and without any previous notice, fall upon his 
knees behind a chair, repeat the Lord's Prayer, and then 
resume his seat at the table. He has played this freak 
over and over, perhaps five or six times in the course of 
an evening. It was not,' Smith observed, * hypocrisy, 
but madness.' Though an honest man himself, he was 
always patronizing scotmdrels. Savage, for instance, 
whom he so loudly praises, was a worthless fellow. His 
pension of fifty pounds never lasted him longer than 
a few days. As a sample of his economy, you may 
take a circumstance that Johnson himself once tola 
Adam Smith. It was, at that period, fashionable to 
wear scarlet cloaks, trimmed with gold lace, and the 
Doctor met him one day, just after he had received his 

Digitized by 



pension, with one of these cloaks upon his back, while, 
at the same time, his naked toes were breaking through 
his shoes." 

Adam Smith, Sir [ ] informed me, was no admirer 

of the Rambler or the Idler, but was pleased with the 
pamphlet respecting the Falkland Islands, as it displayed 
in such forcible language, the madness of modem wars. 
Of Swift, he made frequent and honourable mention, 
and regarded him, both in style and sentiment, as a 
pattern of correctness. He often quoted some of the 
short poetical addresses to Stella, and was particularly 
pleased with the couplet, 

Say Stella, — ^feel you no content. 
Reflecting on a life well-spent ? 

Smith had an invincible dislike to blank verse, Milton's 
only excepted. " They do well," said he, " to call it 
blank, for blank it is." Beattie's Minstrel he would not 
allow to be called a poem ; for he said it had no plan, 
beginning or end. He did not much admire Allan 
Ramsay's " Gentle Shepherd," but preferred the " Pastor 
Fido," of which he spoke with rapture. 

Sir [ ] is a very amusing person to converse with. 

He is quite like an old chronicle, so full of curious 

In the evening, I visited Lady [ ]. She is also 

an amusing person in her way ; but she is quite a woman 
of the world. Yet I think she has preserved more feel- 
ing tha n peoplewho have lived so entirely for society 
generally possess. We talked a great deal of our poor 

friend. Lady E[ ], and Lady [ ] said she thought 

the portrait of Imogen, in the Novice of St. Dominic, was 
a fac-simile of her character, and not at all a flattered 
portrait ; that it had always appeared to her wonderful 
how the authoress of that novel should have so correctly 
pourtrayed Lady E[ ] without knowing her ; " for," 

Digitized by 



continued Lady [ ], " she was unique in charm and 

worth, and folly, as regarded the wisdom of this world.*' 

I^dy [ ] and myself then discussed the merit of 

Miss Owenson, and agreed, as I believe most people do, 
in thinking her a very extraordinary woman, with genius 

of a very high stamp. When I told Lady [ ] I had 

never read the Novice of St. Dominic, she was much 
surprised, and said, " Read it without delay, for the 
enthusiasm and exquisite sentiments which are con- 
spicuous throughout the whole work, will enchant you. 
It is a most fascinating book. Perhaps you will find 
the half of the first volume heavy, and the language, 
though beautiful in parts, inflated. But I greatiy 
prefer Imogen to the super-human Corinne, whose 
character, though pleasing as a whole, is not always 
natural or consistent.'' 

Lady [ ] spoke of the late Duchess of D[evonshire] 

and said, " Poor thing, with all her faults, she was very 
ardentiy loved by her friends, who severely felt her loss. 
Among them none were more sincerely affected than the 
Prince of Wales. The Duke cried bitterly and incessantiy 
for a week before her death, and apparently felt much 
sorrow on her accoimt. Her friend. Lady Epizabeth] 
F[oster], was her constant nurse, and was also said 
to be in great grief. The Duchess, to the last moment, 
expressed the warmest attachment for her, and Lady 
£[lizabeth] said she never could beUeve the scandalous 
stories told of the reason of their friendship. The Duchess 
was attended by almost all the physicians in London ; 
but she had an accimiulation of disorders, liver complaint, 
&c. The immediate cause of her death, however, was a 

fever, and this fever. Lady [ ] said, was brought on, 

she believed, by the vexation and agitation of mind 
caused by a novel published a short time before her 
death. A character was introduced in it, supposed to 
be meant for the Duchess, and who is made to swindle 

Digitized by 



and do aU sorts of dishonourable actions ; at the same 
time, sufiering deep remorse, and struggling against 
amiable feelings and much natural sensibility. It was 
astonishing, how, in consequence of the report of this 
novel having hastened her death, it was universally 

read, and with the greatest avidity. Lady [ ] added 

that her debts were immense, and she suffered the most 
dreadful agitations from a constant fear of discovery, 
and the many exigencies she was driven to. 

Lady [ ] read me a letter she had received to-day 

from England, in which, her correspondent says, 

I bear the Prince has been in the greatest rage, and de- 
sired Lord Liverpool to go and announce the sittings about 
a divorce in the House of Lords ; which Lord L[iverpool] 
refused to do— declared, in the first place, that it was im- 
possible — ^secondly, that it would cost themselves their 
places, and perhaps the Prince, his ; and he has been, it is 
said, obliged to give it up, and there is nothing publicly to 
be done at all against the Princess. So if the book comes 
out, it will be by the sanction of the Princess, I suppose, as 
the other will think it better to stop it ; but how that will 
be I know not. I wish, as we all do, that the Princess of 
Wales would act more wisely ; but I fear that is a useless 
wish. How foolish she was in England, in the choice of 
her associates. The B[urdetts] and Oxfords are so much de- 
spised in this country, by both sides in a political sense, that 
no one can have any credit in associating with them. As 
to her last letter, the Prince's friends never will say what 
they think of it, and they all swear they know Mr. Brougham 
wrote it. I am sure he did not compose the whole of it. 
It is much more like a woman's writing than a man's, and 
has some bad English in it, and expressions nobody^but a 
woman would use. 

This letter told me no news, and Lady [ ] and I 

agreed there was no hope of matters ever mending 
between the ill-matched royal couple. 
TLady [ ] is very anxious her f riend» Lady [•— ], 

Digitized by 



should leave the Princess of Wales's service. I told her 
I did not think it signified, for that lady's character 
was so irreproachable, she could venture to live with 
persons with whom others, of less perfect reputations, 
would not dare to associate ; and that the pecimiary ad- 
vantage of the salary was a matter of great importance 

to Lady [ ]. " Aye, very true, my dear," replied 

she : '* but the world blames her for doing so, and I 
have latterly heard several persons express their surprise 
at her continuing to live with the Princess of Wales." 

I replied again, that after all, nothing had been proved 
against H. R. H., — ^that I, for one, felt certain she had, 
by imprudence, often incurred abuse which she did not 
deserve — and that, considering how many persons of 
doubtful character were generally received and courted 
in society, as long as no public disgrace fell upon the Piin- 
cess, she ought to be considered at least on a par with 
the numerous instances amongst her own sex, of whom 
we entertain doubts, but not knowing facts against 
them, we forbear from condemning ; and that it was 
very unamiable in people to cut the Princess of Wales, 
only because her husband did not support her, and to 
try to gain his favour by treating her with indignity 
and unkindness." 

" That is all very true," answered my worldly friend ; 
" but it is requisite to mind what the world sa}^ ; it 
does not do to run counter to its established rules ; even 
though they may be unjust, they must be obeyed." 

I differed totaJly from this doctrine, and feeling inclined 
to become angry, I changed the subject, and we next 

spoke of Lord M[ ]'s return. Lady [ ], I think 

immediately praised him, saying he had such a thinking 
mind, so original and unUke other young men. His wife. 

Lady M[ J is very sick and miserable looking, and so 

shy, I have never been able to converse with her. 

In a letter from [ ], she informs me, 

Digitized by 



I saw Lady W[ ] in her chair, making a great moaning 

about the drawing-rooms and balls; for her vanity keeps 
pace with her indolence, and she gives herself much trouble 
about her dress. 

Lady S[ ] S[ ] is going to be married to Mr. L[ygo]n. 

I cannot imagine how he thinks of her or she of him, for he 

is very ugly. Miss B[ ]e is also to be married to Mr, 

P[atrick] M[urra]y. 

Lord K[innair]d is selling ofi his house, furniture, and 
every thing belonging to him. Mr. Vaughan and Lady 
Portarlington are dead. "Thus wears the world away." 

I was sorry to hear the latter was gone ; for we have lived 
together, and liked each other sincerely, I believe. I think 
you know Mrs. CunlifEe. I hear she sings ballads so 
beautifully, it is enough to turn people's heads, and makes 
them dissolve in tears. It is a talent more rare, and as 
powerful as Mrs. Siddons's, of moving and melting people. 

Did you ever hear Mrs. C[ ] sing ? 

[ ] was charmed with her visit to Lord and Lady 

D[udley]. Their home is such a beautiful picture of domestic 

feUcity. I wish [ ] could realise such another. Oh! 

that she was married to Lord W. S [ Jr. She is fond of 

lords. She has often told me she would not marry any 
man who was not of a higher rank than herself. Now for 
a woman who analyses the real worth of things, that is such 
a strange sentiment ; since what more is there in the enjoy- 
ment of high rank than the gratification of vanity ? Even 
the homage rank receives cannot be attributed to its own 
merits, or to a preference which the individuals themselves 
or thdr good qualities inspire, but to an adventitious cir- 
cumstance, that gratifies the vanity of their acquaintances, 
but for which they do not really love or value the possessor. 

It gave you, for instance, no pleasure to trot round [ } 

with H. R. H. of [ ] ; on the contrary, it spoilt the amuse- 
ment and pleasure you might have had ;— although many 
a one would have found the idea of self so magnified by the 
ideal honour, it would have been more gratifying than all 
the fun in the world. 

Lady Georgiana Buckley and her daughter are here. They 
are great beauties, and far different from Lady Matilda 
Wynyard^ who is like an iside. Ever since your departure 

Digitized by 



from England, the young lady has remained under the guard 
of three old women, and is now removed to the country 
house,* near Windsor. Except Miss M[ercer], who was 
allowed to go to her, she has seen none of her friends. I 
hear her mother wrote to her only a kind letter of inquiry, 
which had no notice taken of it, and on a second being written 
to one of the guardian ladies, the answer was returned, that 
she was " pretty well." 

There is a great fete at Carlton House to-morrow — a 
ball to which all the fine world are invited ; but Princess 
Charlotte does not return from the country to attend it, 
H.R.H. being, they say, too ill to dance. 

The Duke of Sussex, last night, in the House of Lords, 
made a foolish motion about her, which can answer no end : 
or rather, he gave notice of one he intends to bring forward 
on Friday, as the ministers would answer none of his questions. 

Lord Cochrane's sentence, so far as the pillory is con- 
cerned, is remitted as a favour; not that he is supposed 
to be more innocent ; and he is again returned for West- 

Emily P[ole] f is going to marry Lord F. Sfomerset] and 
becomes a resident at Paris, as he is Duke of Wellington's 

The ffite given by the Generals was very fine. 

Lord Morton { is going to be married to a Miss Buller. 
This event will be a great disappointment to Lady H[amil- 
ton ?]'s family, who thought themselves sure of the succession. 

I never saw the Princess of Wales after you left London ; 
some persons who dined with her told me that she was in 
wretched bad spirits before her departure. 

I hope Lord M[ ] has been, or is, at Rome, as he will 

be quite a person after your own heart. He reads more, 
and has more genius, and unlikeness to other people, than 
any person I know. 

Now that the Princess is gone, all the Opposition abuse 
her for leaving England ; though I beUeve many of them 
prayed her to do so. But they were divided in their opinions 

* Cranbome Lodge. 

t Daughter of William, ist Lord Maxyborough. married, 1814, 
Lord Fitzroy Somerset. ^^ 

X George. i6th Earl. 

Digitized by 



amongst themselves, and some of them wished to keep her 
at home, to make a cat's paw of her. I think they have done 
her much more harm than any of her enemies have, by 
making her give up the £15,000 a year. Were I her, I never 
should forgive them. She has, I am sorry to hear, lost 
Mr. C[raven], who was such an agreeable and reputable 
chamberlain for her. Princess Charlotte is still in the same 
situation, with her old ladies guarding her at Cranboume 
Lodge. The Duke of Cumberland is married to the Princess 
of Salms [sic — Solms]. I never knew till lately that she was 
the Prince's kinswoman.* 

Lady Barbara Ashley is married to William Ponsonby — 
a very great marriage for him. The Jerseys and Seftons 
are at Paris. The Due de Berri came over to invite the 
Regent to make a visit to Paris ; but he found he could not 
leave the country without an act of ParUament. 

I send you some verses written by Lord H[elboum]e, 
better known to you as William L[amb], which will please 
you I think. And now, adieu for the present. 

Ever yours &c. 



A j^ear has pass'd since, oh ! my friendship's choice, 

I saw thy countenance or heard thy voice ; 

A year has pass d, yet scarce a day I view. 

But what that day, my friend, I think on you — 

Think on thy talents, on thy virtues more 

And hope that time has added to their store. 

With eye prophetic through the veil of time, 

In honour firm, in sentiment sublime, 

A rising patriot youth o'erjoyed I see. 

And glory to behold that youth in thee. 

Proud to anticipate thy future fame, 

And pleased to call thee by a private name. 

Hoping that I thy friend may have thy praise. 

And catch some gleam of splendour from thy blaze. 

A year has pass'd — a year of grief and joy — 

Since first we threw aside the name of boyi 

* She was his first cousin, being one of Queen Charlotte's nieces 
and fi40 Princess of Mecklenburg-Strelits. 

Digitized by 



That name which in some fature hour of gloom. 

We shall with sighs regret we can't resume. 

Unknown this life, unknown Fate's numerous shares 

We launched into this world, and all its cares ; 

Those cares whose pangs, before a year was past, 

I felt and feel, they wiU not be the last. 

But then we hailed fair freedom's brightening monsi 

And threw aside the yoke we long had borne ; 

Exulted in the raptures thought can give. 

And said alone, we then began to live ; 

With wanton fancy, painted pleasure's charms, 

Wne's liberal powers, and beauty's folding arms, * 

Expected joys would spring beneath our feet, 

And never thought of griefe we were to meet. 

Ah ! soon, too soon is all the truth displayed. 

Too soon appears this scene of light and shade ! 

We find that those who every transport know, 

In fuU proportion taste of every woe ; 

That every moment new misfortune rears ; 

That, somewhere, every hour's an hour of tears. 

The work of wretchedness is never done. 

And misery's sigh extends with every sun. 

Well is it if, when dawning manhood smiled 

We did not quite forget the simple child ; 

If, when we lost that name, we did not part 

From some more glowing virtue of the heart ; 

From kind benevolence, from faithful truth, 

The generous candour of believing youth. 

From that soft spirit which men weakness call. 

That lists to every tale, and trusts them all, 

To the warm fire of these how poor and dead 

Are all the cold endowments of the head. 

Happy 'twill be if interested man 

Instruct not us upon his general plan ; 

If chilling prudence, and suspicious age^ 

If fortune favours, or if Fortune rage, 

Succeed not. (Oh ! may I withstand) 

To freeze the breast, and close the liberal hand, 

To dry those eyes whence pity used to flow. 

Suppress the sighs that sympathise with^woe. 

Teach us to spurn those, Fate from high has hurled. 

With all the barbarous knowledge of Uie world. 

Digitized by 



January 3r<? 1816. — I received a letter from [ ] who 

had been visiting the Duchess of Y[ork]'s friend, who 
in speaking of her, said, "The Duchess was very ill 
received at Carlton House, on account of her still con- 
tinuing to visit the Princess of Wales ; but she always 
maintained her determination to do so nevertheless, — 
saying she had visited the Princess once a year, and 
she saw no reason for making a change." I think she 
was quite right. But what effect power has ! people are 
afraid of appearing to belong to the opposite party, 
when it is the oppressed. " I should rather be vain 
[sa3^ my correspondent] of doing so, and on the contrary, 
ashamed of courting the rising sun ; it would look so 
like mere self interest." 

Miss J[ohnston]e, the concert giver, is going to marry 
Count St. A[ntoni]o ! she has got 40,000 pounds. They 
say he is going to become an Englishman, which he 
thinks, I suppose, he will find more profitable than being 
an Italian Conte. 

I went to see Lawrence*s pictures. I think he is the 
first portrait painter in the world. The picture of Lord 
Wellington, between Platoff and Blucher, is splendid. I 

saw Lord W[ '\ himself yesterday, bearing the sword 

of state at the House of Lords, and heard the Regent 
dismiss the ParUament. He looked very well, and was 
magnificently dressed, but I think the Duke of Kent 
is the handsomest of the brothers. 

The Prince Regent left town last night. He has been 
so much hissed by the mob, he is quite disgusted ; and 
the old Queen also, in going to her last drawing-room, 
was hissed and reviled, and the people asked her what she 
had done with the Princess Charlotte. They stopped her 
chair, and she put down the glass, and said, " I am seventy- 
two years of age — I have been fifty-two years Queen 
of England, and I never was hissed by a mob before." 
So they let her pass on, without further molestation. 

Digitized by 



The Regent sent several aid-de-camps to attend her 
majesty : she would not permit them to do so, but 
desired them to go back to Carlton House. They replied 
they could not, for that they were ordered by the Prince 
to see Her Majesty safe to Buckingham House. She 
said, — " You have felt Carlton House at his orders — 
return there at mine, or I wiU leave my chair, and go 
home on foot ; '^ so they left her. There was something 
like coolness and magnanimity displayed on this occasion. 

I never hear now from dear [ ]. Our friendship, 

without correspondence, is decaying, and I do not like 
such things to decay, but they do so very fast in this 

Pray write to me soon. Of comrse you have heard 
of Miss P[ole]'s marriage to Lord F. Somerset ; they say 
there never were people so much in love. The only 
other marriage on the tapis is Miss F[itzroyTs, to Lord 
W[orcester]. I admire her ; I think she has a better 
manner than most Misses. What a sweet creature Mrs. 
G[ ] is ! I have seen nothing like her. 

I have been living lately a good deal with Lady B[ ] 

and her daughters, especially Lady [ ], who draws 

better than any artist Imown to fame in the present day ; 
from imagination too ! and with a spirit and boldness 
and taste that are quite astonishing. She has lately 
executed some drawings from the Lay of the Last Min- 
strel ; and when she sent for Mr. Scott, to show them to 
him, he pronounced them to be very fine ; but she was 
very disappointed at his manner of praising them, and 
says he evidently does not understand drawing. She 
also sang to him the Boat song in the Lady of the Lake. 
She has a good voice, and it suited the wildness of the 
air, and they said Walter Scott wept ; I did not look at 
him, otherwise I would have flown to catch his tear, 
and exclaimed, — " O to chrj^talize this treasure," &c. 
It was quite a sublime scene. I have the most profoimd 

Digitized by 



respect for Mr. Scott I ever had for any person. A man 
who conceives such elevated and tender thoughts, and 
expresses them in undying language, is more deserving 
of this sentence than any body one can meet. I could 
not help thinking it was a pity that people of such sublime 
genius in poetry, painting, and music, were not more 

sightly ; for Lady [ ] was never pretty ; and she 

has become crooked, and her figure all going here and 
there. But there is something I think graceful in Walter 
Scott's hitch ; it would be a pity he should walk like 
any body else. I am sorry I can find no other expression 
in his face save good nature. 

I cannot resist sending you a note I received to-day 
from Lady C[aroline] L[amb], for I am certain it will 
make you laugh. 

I wish you would come early on Thursday, and bring with 
you a few agreeable people, as I fear you vdll not know one 
of those whom you will meet here. They are most of them 
artists, writers, and musicians. You are well aware that 
these sort of people are not always agreeable, but vulgar, 
quaint, afiected, and formal. Still I feel indebted to them, 
as they have one and all received me with kindness, when sent 

away from [ ] House ; and if their manners are not quite 

pleasing, they are in their various ways clever, and many of 
them good. The following is the list of their names and ages. 

Ever yours, &c. 

Miss Spence . 

Miss B[ ] . 

Miss Landon . 
Miss Wheeler 
Mr. Hall 
Mr. Bishop . 
Mr. T. K. Hervey 
Mr. Browning 

aged 56 

,. 48 
„ 18 

» 17 
any age 

n 40 
.. 20 
.. 100 

In the evening I visited Sir [ ], he amused me as 

he always does by his conversation, which is full of 
entertainment and information, though generally of 

Digitized by 



the olden time. In the year 1766, he said, when Pitt 
went up to London on his grand popular errand of 
opposing that very strange act which he had deliberat^y 
permitted to pass through the House of Commons without 
any opposition, I was very desirous of hearing his speech, 
the heads of which he had stated frequently to me in 
conversation, and even repeated the Ipsissima ardentia 
verba, of his peroration. 

Be to her faults a little blind. 
Be to her virtues very kind. 

I went therefore to the House of Commons, and sat below 
the gallery, on the side of the Opposition, that I might 
observe aU the stage tricks, that that strange man would 
exhibit when he made his appearance. He had only 
arrived in town the night before the debates, and when 
he entered, after having made his bow to the chair, he 
walked along covered, and with a stem and haughty 
look eyed George Grenville, and the heads of the secret 
cabinets of St. James's, and South Audley Street.* It 
was late when he arrived, and the debate had been 
purposely delayed until he should come. Nothing 
could be better managed than the whole of this famous 
oration ; but it was full of that art in mountebankism 
which his second son inherited ; and this mountebankism 
was in some parts very visible. In every other respect, 
it would have done no discredit to Cicero ; his dignity 
of manner, his pauses, his modest respect to the galleries» 
and his proud conttunely towards his eminent opponents ; 
— ^his kind but overbearing politeness to Conway and 
the ministers ; in short the whole of it well practised at 
the looking glass, was all-powerful in the circle. Neither 
had the system of corruption in the senate — ^the master 
piece of the reign — ^been then so perfectly matured as 
to prevent his oration from having an effect on the 
sentiments of the house. I believe (from what I know) 

♦ Lord Bute's town residence. 

Digitized by 



that above a score of members were gained, by the 
power of his eloquence alone ! an extraordinary assertion, 
but which after mature consideration, I repeat. Lord 
Shelbume, now Marquis of Lansdowne, was the only 
man of great property and abilities with whom Pitt 
was in the habit of friendship, and he appeared to me 
a much more proper person for Pitt to bring to the head 
of the Treasury, than the Duke of Grafton. But Pitt 
was forced to make the best bargain he could with Bute 
and the King's party, and they were averse from bringing 
in a man of Shelbume's great fortune and parUamentary 
abiUties into the first office of the state ; where, by in- 
trigue, and flattering the moneyed interest in the city, he 
might have become too strong for the haunts of St. James's. 

"Through the whole of the transactions," said Sir 

[ ], " the interests of the nation were quite out of 

the question. Court intrigues and aristocratical cabal 
or coaUtion, regulated every change and appointment, 
and the people continued to be nettled, as usual, by the 
sacrificed pretensions of the soi-disant patriots. By 
continual changes and exhibitions of aristocratical 
falseness and corruption, and by jumbling men of aU 
poUtical descriptions together, the king and his friends 
hoped in time to be able to trample them all in the dirt, 
and along with them the remaining rights of the people, 
by the interposition of the hated and venal senate." 

Sir [ ] also spoke of the late Lord Melville, vnth 

whom he was very intimate, and whose death occasioned 
a great deal of regret in all those who knew him. Sir 

[ ] told me he was certain it was the consequence 

of Lord Melville's sorrow for the death of his earliest 
and greatest friend. President Blair. They had been 
early school-fellows together. Blair ♦ was the son of an 

* Robert Blair of Avontoun, 4th son of the Rev. Robert Blair, 
author of " The Grave ; " bom x 741 , died May 20» 1 8 1 1 . Henry Dundas, 
ist Lord Melville ; bom 1742, died suddenly. May 28. 181 1. 

Digitized by 



obscure country clergjonan. He was to have become 
tutor in a gentleman's family. Lord Melville, of nearly 
the same age, had then eighty pounds a year, and divided 
it with him, that they might follow the law together, in 
which they both made so distinguished a figure. Lord 
Melville was terribly afBicted by Mr. Blair's death, and 
went from Dunira to see the President's daughters, with 
whom he remained some hours ; and the next morning 
he was found dead in his bed. It was the day on which 
his friend was to have been buried. " It is very un- 
common," Sir- [ ] observed, " to witness such strong 

feelings at so advanced an age, and especially after a 
long political life, which usually destroys all the finer 

Sir [ ] next mentioned Mr. J[ }y. He said 

that he knew no person so clever, whose manners are 
in such bad taste, and whose appearance is so Uttle pre- 
possessing. He also observed that he was reperusing Miss 
Seward's Letters, and said, what an odd fancy it was to 
bequeath them to Constable, enjoining their pubUcation 
after her death. " There are parts," said he, " I like very 
well ; but there is too much gall in them, especially for 
any one to wish to have it spread when they were in the 

January 4/A. — I received a letter from [ ]. He says : 

In reply to your eloquent letter, I perfectly agree with all 
you say in favour of retirement, and the danger of living 
perpetually in the world. Still I have been so long accustomed 
to constant society, that, though I often encounter people 
who do not suit me, and hear sayings and doings which are 
hateful to me, still I feel certain it would not suit me to 
retire from the world altogether. Neither do I think the essays 
you sent me to read would suit a romance. Novel readers 
do not care for prosing. You and I love it dearly, and all 
sorts of analysis of human nature; but the generality of 
persons desire only fine stories and events, and bustle, to 


Digitized by 



amuse them. When they read a story-book, it is for entertain- 
ment, not instruction, and nothing answers out of its place. 
Dry reflections are not palateable when one expects amuse- 
ment. I cannot invent stories ; though it is one of my theories 
that every thing may be done by practice to a certain extent, 
by people of common sense. The way to make a novel, I 
think, must be to lay a plan, and then, after the outline is 
traced, shade it to please the fancy. 

Are you not sorry for the poor [ ] being obliged to leave 

her children in the care of Lady [ ] ? 

I believe I told you I had been reading Horace Walpole's 
Letters over again, and also Madame du DefEand's Letters to 
him, and that I hke them better. I hesitated for so long before 
reading them, because you disparaged them to me. I do 
not admire herself ; she is a hard, tmfeeling, misanthropical 
old sinner. But her mind is so laid open to me, that I pardon 
her faults and think she could not help them, as I do and 
think of my own. I have finished her letters to Horace, and 
am quite angry there is no accoimt of her death. I am now 
reading her letters to Voltaire, which I cannot endure ; they 
are full of nothing but fulsome flattery, which disgusts me. 
How much true affection dignifies every thing I but flattery 
when seen through, is odious. I hke the portraits at the 
end of her book. 

Did you ever write your own character at different periods ? 
for it does change in some degree from circumstances, and 
often very much, in one's own opinion. You see how different 
Madame du Deffand's two portraits of herself are at thirty and 
seventy ; though some of the same traits subsist unchanged. 

People here bore me, by asking me if the " Spirit of 
the book " was written by the Princess of Wales, or if she 
patronised the writing of it. I protest not, as you told me 
such an idea never entered the enlightened heads of the 
people in London. 

I hear C. S[ ]2l is living with the Margravine. Is not 

that an odd association ? 

I have been staying at G[ ]e, which is full of ancient 

magnificence, and done in very good taste. I never admired 

the mechanism of any of Lord G[ ys houses that I have 

seen ; but perhaps I am wrong. 

Sir Sidney and Lady S[mith] and the R[unibolds] were 
there. They are going to [ ], and Lady S[mith] intends 

Digitized by 



Lord [ ] to many E[inil]y R[umbol]d.* But I will not let 

him marry the grand-daughter of a footman ; for Sir P. 

[Sic — ^T.] R[ ] was a foot-boy it is said ; t if so, it is ignoble 

blood; and do you not suppose that would stagger Lord 
[ ], although the lady is very beautiful ? 

In answer to your question, I am not sure whether I think 
human nature very bad or not. Wickedness makes much 
more impression than goodness, just as misery does than 
happiness. A thousand enjoyments pass away unheeded, 
when one pang is commented on and lamented for ever. 
Life is a very mixed state, but it is the more entertaining on 
that account. Constant goodness would pall very much. 
We should cherish lenity to the faults of others, and strict- 
ness to our own ; on the contrary we have many apologies 
for our own, but few for those of other people. 

Yesterday I witnessed a very extraordinary scene. To 
oblige a young lady, I accompanied her to the profession of a 
nun in the Ursuline Convent. The crowd was very great, 
the novice being yoimg, handsome, and a native of the place. 
There were nearly a hundred strangers breakfasted in an 
outer apartment, for the ceremony b^ins at nine o'clock in 
the morning. We, with many other ladies, were admitted 
into the choir, and every thing went on as is usual on stich 
occasions ; when, in the midst of the most awful part of the 
solemnity, a girl, seated near us, broke out into a fit of raging 
madness, prayed louder than the priests, and called on God 
to come to her directly. The bishop and priests stood aghast ; 
the orisons were suspended, and only the shrieks of this 
unfortunate creature resoimded through the place. It was 
in vain the women tried to drag her out ; her strength was 
supernatural, till one of the priests left the chapel and came 
to their assistance. Never shall I forget her screams or her 
looks. I had never witnessed any one in the same state, and 
it fell on my heart like a bolt of ice. Some were in tears and 
others were fainting. The only person who remained unmoved 
was the nun about to take the black veil. She was kneeling 
before the grate, and she never once turned round to ascertain 
what disturbed the ceremony. Could any thing be a greater 

* She married a German Jew, the Baron de Dehnar. 

t This is a fable often repeated. It was said that Sir Thomas 
Rumbold, Governor of Fort St. George, 1778-1780, began life as a 
" boots " at " Arthur's." He, however, was a son of William Rumbold, 
of H. E. I. Company's Service at Tellicherry. 

Digitized by 



proof of the complete subjugation of all worldly feelings ? 
The girl who was seized with the dreadful fits, was a rela- 
tion of the novice's. At l^gth, with great difficulty, she was 
conveyed from the chapel, and the prayers recommenced. 
The miserable rite was finished without further interruption. 
Doubtless she was shocked at the unnatural sacrifice in pro- 
gress. Can any cruelty exceed that which arises from religious 
bigotry ? The Roman Catholic church needs no other proof 
to shew forth its spurious character than the immolation of 
all nature's dearest affections to its idolatrous worship ; as if 
such a burying alive could be acceptable to the Supreme 
Being, " whose service is perfect freedom." 

I have been reperusing Madame de Stael's De I'Allemagne. 
I cannot very weU express how much I am charmed with that 
work. As Midas's hand had the art of transmuting every 
thing it touched into gold, so her pen illuminates every 
object, turning the rude ore of the mine into current coin, 
and rendering it useful to every one. It is certainly a most 
luminous emanation of the human mind, and proves the 
female intellect may perchance equal, if not surpass, that 
of the other sex. I never read any style I liked so well, and 
the candour, liberality, and impartiality of her sentiments 
are truly admirable. But I am dilating too long on a work 
you are a better judge of than I am. It has given me, what 
I had not before, a desire to see her, which, I dare say, will 
never be gratified except in the shades, and even there, I 
fear she ^11 be so far above me as to be out of my sight. 
And now I will say adieu for the present, &c. 

I remained at home all day writing letters for the next 
post to England, and in the evening, I walked on the 

Pindan Hill with Lady [ ]. She was in low spirits, and 

therefore less excited and more agreeable than usual. 
She told me the manner in which Lady R[osebery] went 
off with her brother-in-law ; Sir H. M[ildmay], or rather 
was turned off, for it was no part of her plan to elope ; but 
she was detected shut up with him one evening, that of her 
birth-day, when the servants were dancing at a ball. Sir 

H[ ] had been concealed, in the disguise of a sailor, in 

her neighbourhood for two months. Lord R[osel:)ery] had 

Digitized by 



had reason for suspicion before ; so Mr. P[ ] ordered 

the carriage and put her in it. She joined her lover, and 
they went to London, and they are now Uving together 
in his house in his B[ Ji Street, I believe it is. 

Lady Elizabeth Montgomery, the wife of Sir James 
Montgomery, has died in child-birth. It is shocking 
how many persons have fallen victims to the same 
misfortune lately ; among them the Duchess of Buc- 

cleugh ♦ and Lady Carmichael. Lady [ ] added 

that she dined at Lord R[osebery]'s a few days before 
Lady R[osebery]'s elopement. She did not appear till 
dinner was on the table, and apologized, saying she had 
lost herself in the woods. She had indeed lost herself in 

the woods. Lady [ ] said it annoyed her, that a 

woman living in such guilt, should have appeared happy, 
and without a cloud on her mind. 

I was glad to hear Lady W[ ] is coming to Rome. 

She is such a delightful person. Lady [ ] and I had 

a discussion on the subject of matrimony, for which she 
is a strenuous advocate ; but not all her eloquence could 
convince me that I was wrong in preferring a state of 
single blessedness. I observed that fortunately* all states 
and conditions have their advantages, if people will look 
to the fairest side, and endeavour to make the best 
of everything ; and much good is to be made. A happy 
marriage I should think the height of human fehcity ; 
but I fear there are few which are truly such. On the 
other hand, an unhappy marriage must be the extremity 
of misery, and even a poor old maid must be happy in 
comparison, and a rich old maid in the third heaven of 
delight. But riches I think are more necessary for 
that state of soUtude than any other. In general I do 
not think the richest people are the happiest, though 

* The original note here is : ** The beautiful and the good Duchess, 
beloved and admired by all who ever knew her." She was Harriet 
Townshend, wife of Duke Charles, the friend of Sir Walter Scott. She 
bad died in 1814. 

Digitized by 



we all wish to be rich. A little struggle to make the ends 
of the year meet, animates one, and excludes repinings 
and envyings, and all the numerous train of evils attend- 
ing those who possess all the good things of this life in 
abundance. No bad tempered person I am certain should 
marry. The ill-natured infallibly ruin their children's 
tempers. Tormenting their husband is of less consequence ; 
that is only one individual ; but it extends the evil in a 
wider degree to children, for it destroys their tempers, and 
they torment their children again in their turn, and so the 
misery is perpetuated from generation to generation, and 
often becomes hereditary, like their titles or broad lands. 
In no way can the influence of a woman be so inunortal as 
when, by her example and precepts, she bequeaths good 
dispositions to her children. Though they may^be unruly 
when young, and the good seed not seem to grow at first, it 
tells in the end ; and most persons, with certain modifica- 
tions, bring up their children as they themselves were 
brought up. If ever I venture on matrimony, the first qua- 
lity I shall seek in my companion shall be good temper, the 
second good sense. I am certain it ranks higher in the scale 
of every day comforts than talents or accomplishments. 

Lady [ ] read me part of a letter she had received, 

which was as far as I can remember it nearly as follows : 

I dined the other day at the "Man of Feeling's," Mr. 
Mackenzie's, and had the honour and pleasure of sitting 
next Walter Scott. He talked a great deal of you, and I 
think he is rather in love with you, and wishes you to return 
here, and he expressed his opinion that Edinburgh would suit 
you much better than Rome. But I said you did not think 
so, unfortunately. Mrs. Scott was also present at that party, 
of which I made mention, and seems a merry good humoured 
body. He (that is her husband) is very kind to her, and 
calls her Charlotte when he speaks to or of her. 

The " Man of Feeling's " family are all charming. I never 
saw seven such dever and agreeable people in one house 
before. The eldest daughter is rather long winded ; but then 

Digitized by 



sbe is wise and good. All the others are perfect. Miss 

M[ ] has been attending all the country balls she coidd 

go to, and has been accused of trjing to win the Duke of 

A[ ] ; she is a strange girl, and I wonder how she will 

end. She encourages attentions from persons whom she 
certainly woidd not marry. She refused Colonel Cadogan 
lately. She follows all her own propensities without the least 
restraint, whether it be brusquer les gens or to cajole them, and 
does both in a way hardly permitted to ladies, young or old. 

Lady M[ar]y L[ennox] was with her, who seems very 

agreeable, moderate and mild, the reverse of Miss M[ ]. 

Lady Elphinstone's beauty, I regret to see, is beginning to 
fade. Alas ! how soon bright things come to confusion ! I 

cannot bear to see people's beauty fade. Mrs. M[ ]s is 

more than fading, it is nearly gone. 

Miss Wynne is taking a husband. He is a good looking, 
but vulgar looking man. 

Lord P[ ] has been skirmishing about in Scotland, 

making all the young ladies anxious to win him, but none 
have succeeded, though not for want of will or attempt to 
do so. Three of the Duchess of Montrose's daughters appeared 

at Stirling, and were much admired. Lady [ ] is much 

disappointed at not being able to execute her intended Spanish 

expedition ; but Lord M[ Ys mother is a strange sort of a 

personage. Lady M[ ]'s brother has been wounded in 

Spain, and they have set off in great haste to Gibraltar, 

leaving Lady [ ] without one word of explanation, 

and she is affronted. Lady [ ] was in a fault-finding 

humour with every body and every thing, and when I admired 

the genius of [ ] in modelling, she replied that for her part, 

she thought she had meddled so long with marble, that she 
had become a block herself ; she looks and talks so harshly. 

Nevertheless, [ ] has infinite talent, and on one occasion, 

when Lord Bjnron observed a bust she had executed of a 

brother of Lord M[ ]1, he remarked what a beautiful 

antique Greek head it was ; which was a flattering testimony 
to her powers of sculpture. 

After this period it does not appear that the journalist 
kept any notes imtil the beginning of November in 1817, 
when we fimd the following memorandum : 

Digitized by 



A friend who was present at Princess C[ ]*s 

marriage, said that when Prince L[ ] repeated the 

words " with all my woridly goods I thee endow," the 
royal bride was observed to laugh. But however she 
might then ridicule his pretensions to her hand, every 
person agrees now in thinking it is a happy marriage, 
and all Britain is looking forward anxiously and joyfully 
to the birth of an heir to the English throne. Shortly 
after their marriage I received the following letter from 
the Princess of Wales, on her return from her travels. 

Dated Villa Caprillb, Pbsaro. 
Je viens de recevoir votre lettre de Rome, avec Testampe 
du Prince Ltepold de Cobourg. Je vous en suis infiniment 
obligee nonobstant que mon cabinet est d6]k rempli des por- 
traits de ces deux tendres 6poux. J'^tais cependant enchant6e 
d'avoir encore une preuve de leur souvenir, et j'attends 
maintenant de jour en jour I'heureuse nouvelle de I'accouche- 
ment de la Princesse Charlotte, ma fille. Je me trouve 
tr^ heureuse ici, dans im climat d61icieux. La situation 
est vraiment enchanteresse, et la meilleure soci£t6 de toute 
r Italic, surtout celle d'une dame, la Comtesse Perdicati, 
qui est une seconde Corinne. EUe est iris belle, jeune, et 
danse k merveille. La Marquise Masio est une jeune veuve 
int^ressante, remplie de grice, et chante comme La Catalani, 
ainsi la musique est une de nos plus grands amusements. 
Nous jouons aussi la com6die dans un joli petit th6itre que 
j'ai dans ma maison. Nous avons beaucoup de personnes 
en hommes qui sont iris distingu6s, grands antiquaires, 
pontes, et m^taphysiciens. Je m'occupe maintenant d'fcrire 
mes voyages que j'ai fait en Sicile, en Afrique, en Gr6ce, 
AthAnes, Constantinople, Syrie, et Palestine jusqu'au Jour- 
dan, avec les dessins que j'ai fait moi-m^me, et ceux des 
personnes qui m'ont accompagn^es dans ce long voyage. 
J'ai rapport6 des tableaux, des bas-reliefs, des marbres iris 
rares et curieuses, des m^daiUes d'or, d'argent, et de cuivre, 
au-deli de deux milles, tir6 des fouilles que j'ai fait moi- 
mfime k Athene, k Eph^se, k Aphrodis, k Troye, k Attique, 
k Carthage, et k J^rusiaJem ; c'est une trte rare et belle col- 
lection d'antiquit^. J'ai aussi fait faire des dessins pour 

Digitized by 



rinspection du Marquis de Canova, qui en est trds satisfait. 
J'ai une belle maison & Rome, avec un superbe jaixjin, ce qui 
est trds rare k trouver. Cependant j'ai €t€ assez fortunfe 
d'en avoir la possession, et au prinlemps je m'y repdrai. 
J'ai d6]i pass^ trois mois i Rome, et on se trouve trds bien 
sous le gouvemement du Saint P^e, excepts que I'air est y 
trts mauvais surtout en hiver. Le courier part, et je n ai 
plus de temps. ^ 

Croyez-moi toujours, &c. 

Caroune, Princesse de Galles. 

The above efiusion is in the same style of forced gaiety 
which has generally been so visible lately in aU the 
Princess of Wales's letters. The travels of which she 
speaks with so much pride and satisfaction were not, 
I fear, productive of any pleasure to her ; for she met 
with so many slights, and proofs of the malevolent 
persecution which followed her into the remotest foreign 
lands, that she could not feel at peace. 

November yd, ifi|^. — I received a letter from [ ]. 

I shall not attempt to apologise for my long silence, feeling 
convinced, (however vain it may appear,) that your goodness 
extends beyond all the bad excuses I can make. We are, — 
that is all the Neopolitans, — ^just emerging from a lovely 
autumn, and far advanced in a very chilly winter, whose 
baneful effects will be severely felt in a country which has 
already shared in the universal distress which seems to per- 
vade our European Continent. One hears of nothing but 
famine, epidemical disorders, misery in every shape, dis- 
content and robberies ; so that one is almost tempted to 
look back at a state of warfare, as the golden age of this 
centtuy. I could give you such an accoimt of a certain 
horde of banditti, headed by three brothers of the name of 
Vandarelli, as would furnish several highly finished pages in 
a romance ; but I believe even romances are out of fashion. 
I have not space to do justice to my picture ; sufi&ce it to 
say that these worthy gentlemen are the terror of Apulia, 
and will, in a very short time, be the ruin of that, the richest 
province in this kingdom. They are only thirty in number. 

Digitized by 



and have, as yet, eluded the vigilance, and not unfrequently 
defeated the attacks, of the forces sent against them. They 
are mounted on excellent horses, which, with their know- 
ledge.^ the country they infest, enables them to perform 
the most surprising joumies in one day ; so that when some 
lucky district thinlra itself perfectly free from their visits, on 
account of the distance at which they have last been heard 
of, they suddenly make their appearance, and like locusts, 
leave only the marks of their passage by the devastation 
they have committed. 

How surprised you would be, whilst moralising at Dovenest, 
to receive a scrap of dirty paper, containing these words, 
" The Great Champion of Apulia commands you^will deposit 
two thousand pounds at the foot of a certain tree, by such a 
day, under pain of seeing your trees and house burnt down " : 
all which never fails to happen in these parts, in case of dis- 
obedience. They have, however, as yet, not been very cruel ; 
though there is a terrific anecdote of their lately cutting up a 
steward into small pieces, boiling them in milk, and forcing 
the wretched labourers of the farm he belonged to, to taste 
of it. But you need not implicitly believe this. 

So much for horrors, which, I fear, are the most entertaining 
subjects I know of. 

Poor Gell has been very ill, which prevented my partaking 
of the gaieties which were to be enjoyed in abundance here 
for some time past. Amongst the English famiUes here are 
the Breadalbanes, Ponsonbys, Comptons, Freemantles, Lady 
Charlotte Pindar, and a hundred others, among which, 
Sothebys and obscurer names. I hear of the Princess of 
Wales being at Rome, or her being immediately expected 
there. Is this so ? I hope not, for your sake, as I well 
know that Her Royal Highness is rather exigeante, and 
demands such an entire sacrifice of time on the part of those 
whose society she values, as it is not always in one's power 
to make. I think this report must be false,* as it does not 

* She was at Carlsruhe on March 26, 18 17, and was known as " The 
Mad Princess " from the Turkish costumes she and her suite appeared 
in. Karoline Bauer mentions that she was " an .elderly, stout little 
old lady in a scarlet riding habit. . . . Upon the Titus-head of the 
Princess there sat defiantly a cap of black velvet, with white nodding 
plumes. With what loudness and unconstraint the scarlet amazon 
talked and laughed, whilst she boldly moan ted her horse, so that her 

Digitized by 



accord with her residence at Munich, from whence I last 
heard from her ; but the papers mention her expected arrival 
at Stutgard, and she travels so expeditiously, that I should 
not wonder at her acting the part of the VandereUi. I cannot 
help suspecting that something has happened to give her a 
disgust, at least a temporary one, to her residence at Como. 
If you can give me any intelligence respecting the Princess 
I should be happy to receive it 

Yours truly, 
K[ ]. C[ 1 

I visited Lady [ ], who was engaged in reading 

Miss F[errier]'s new novel. I told her, I heard she did not 

acknowledge being the authoress. Lady [ ] observed 

it was surprising she should be so well acquainted with 
the living, talking, &c., of fashionable people, as she had 
heard that Miss F[errier] knew nobody belonging to that 
class of persons except the Argyll family. 

Lady [ ] is at present occupied in cop3dng an 

original picture of Enuna, Lady Hamilton, by Madame 
Le Brun. It is the portrait of a graceful woman, but 
though handsome, she must, I think, to judge by this 
likeness, have had a hard, vulgar expression of face. 
There is nothing soft or feminine in her countenance ; 
in short, this portrait conveys the idea of \ woman who 
would go through thick and thin, and think nothing of 
seeing an old man of eighty hung up at the y^xA arm ! 

I am reading Goethe's life. With what enthusiasm 
he made his journey into Italy. It is pleasant to read or 
hear of any persons who allow themselves to go beyond 
the conmionplace bounds of hacknied feeling, and who 
dare to think and judge for themselves, independently of 

dress was lifted up high — ^very high— and the shocked people of Carls- 
mhe, who were assembled in great numbers, got a sight of flesh-coloured 
tights I " She then appeared in a Pasha's dress, and finally at the 
^era as a guest of the Grand Duke of Baden, in the Margravine's box, 
in the costume of an Oberlander peasant with huge head-dress, flying 
ribbons and glittering spangles. Bergami was also dressed as an 
OberULnder. [Memoirs, iL pp. 269-273.] 

Digitized by 



the dry maxims laid down by road books. I like Lord 
B5rron*s conversations, that is to say, they interest me. 

I wish he had lived to grow better ; which I think 
he would have done when he was old. Captain Medwin, 
I dare say, is bad enough himself. He praises Mrs. 
Shelley who I have always heard was an3rthing but 
amiable. Her own father, G[odwin], said so, and re- 
proached himself with her errors, as having originated 
in the education he gave her. 

I heard to-day of a new novel, which all the English 
are busy reading. But whenever I do obtain this won- 
derful book, I do not know enough of London life 
as it now exists, to understand the characters. I hear, 
however, it is clever. Since these fashionable tales 
are now the favourite reading of all classes, and all ages, 
I wish, whilst the mania for such literature is at its 
height, that they were made the vehicles for good pur- 
poses ; which it appears to me they might be ; though 
I once heard a very sensible man say that no book ever 
did any good except the Bible. What I should like to 
see lashed, and which is from all I hear, the most pro- 
minent folly of London, and the most in vogue amongst 
the first classes in the metropolis, is the system of ex- 
clusiveness. The continual desire to get into a higher 
grade, and to keep out intruders, is the business of some 
of the greatest persons of the land ; and not only is 
this system to be deprecated in a moral point of view, 
but it also totally spoils society. People do not enter 
it with the desire of being mutually agreeable, but of 
being on the defensive with those perhaps of higher 
talents if they are in a less modish set. In short, it is 
a complete system of selfishness, to the exclusion of all 
general benevolence. In France, the English are laughed 
at for keeping the world at arm's length. In a novel, 
this want of sense and kindliness might be nicely quizzed, 
and the vulgarity of the practice shown up ; for it is 

Digitized by 



certainly gross vulgarity to estimate oneself, not by the in- 
tellectual advantages of one's associates, but by their rank 
or fashion, which is more fluctuating and less tangible 
still. In short, if rumour does not exaggerate, London 
selfishness is an exquisite theme for ridicule. I am glad 
that people of ton have taken to writing novels; it 
is an excellent amusement for them, and also for the 

I was sorry to hear that Mr. Mackenzie, "the Man 
of Feeling," has lost a daughter. She was a very superior 

Lord [ ] is dead ; he was a man I knew in former 

times. He has at last finished his licentious career, 
and died, they say, in consequence of his own excesses. 
Yet he was very clever, and very agreeable. I foiget 
who it is, but some very wise person, who remarks that, 
"To be good and disagreeable, is high treason against 
virtue." Yet it is often the most worthy who are the 
least captivating. 

W. [ ] is just arrived here from England, and 

came to call on me. In answer to my inquiries if he had 
seen his friend. Sir Walter Scott, lately, he replied, that 
he was sorry to say he had not ; for that he was, as I 
well knew, such a devoted admirer of his, that he would 
go further to hear him talk than any man on earth. 

" Even to see him, there is," said W. N[ ], " such 

good sense in the cast of his mouth, and the expression 
of his heavy, clumsy features, that it is quite refreshing 
to one's soiu. But it is in his eye, when it does light up, 
that all his genius lies." 

November ^h. — I went to Lady [ ] who has been 

confined for some time to the house with a severe illness ; 
she spoke of her residence in Ireland a few years back, 
and gave me a very amusing accotmt of the society as 
it existed when she Hved there. The system of hard 

U N : V ^ V 3 I T f 5 

Digitized by 



drinking was then at its height, and on one occasion the 
poor mayor of Cork was confined to his bed for a fort- 
night, after entertaining the Lord Lieutenant ; and if 
the latter had remained much longer, he certainly would 
have killed half the natives, with his excess of joviality. 
He was by no means prepossessing in his appearance ; 
but the Lady Lieutenant was, though enormously fat, 
good hiunoured and unaffected in her manners. Her 
dress was always most gorgeous, and she wore generally 

a blaze of diamonds. Lady M. L[ ], her daughter, 

was a fine looking girl, and her brother. Lord M[ ], was 

beautiful, but it was the beauty of a girl. One of the vice 
regal train appeared to appertain to the Lord Lieutenant's 
suite exclusively, as he paid her unremitting attention. 
His wife never spoke to the lady in question. It was 
shameful in that little gipsy to behave so in her husband's 
absence, who was then witii his regiment in Spain. 

After the dinner Lady [ ] gave the vice regal party, 

they all adjourned to a pubhc ball at Cork. The head 
of the room was railed in for the aristocratics ; which 
gave some offence ; but there is alwa)^ something taken 
amiss on these occasions. On the succeeding day they 
dined at the bishop's, and from thence they all proceeded 

to Lady D[ ^3y's ball ; which Lady [ ] said was 

without exception the most brilliant party of the kind 
she had ever seen. Blazing lights, beautiful exotics, &c., 
throw a transient glory over all such scenes, which leave 
httle on the mind except a vacuum the next day. " At 

the royal table," said Lady [ ], " we were highly 

amused by Sir Charles [ ] singing humorous songs. I 

also saw on that occasion a most beautiful Mrs. White, 
by whom I was quite captivated, for she paid me most 
flattering attention. She invited me to her place, which 
is one of the lions in Ireland, and already, with the pre- 
sumption of my age — ^f or I was yoimg then I " said Lady 
[ ], with a sigh — " I hoped to have found a person of 

Digitized by 



whom I should make a friend. Alas ! how often are 
such anticipations disappointed. Over how many graves 
of mortified feeling does not every one mourn in the 
course of their lives ! Well, next ball, we scarcely 
recognised each other. She did not look so frank, and I 
felt too indolent to try to please her ; so there our ac- 
quaintance ended. At supper, however she handed me 
a glass of champagne. I smiled at the sinule I made 
between our acquaintance and champagne ; briUiant, 
sparkling, animated for a moment, but subsiding into 
a thing * stale, flat and unprofitable.* 

" The wife of the Lieutenant," continued Lady [ ], 

" doated on her brother. Lord [ ] and from all I knew 

of him, I thought him very delightful. What he was with 
boon companions I cannot say ; but I am certain it can 
only be an innate spirit of glory which could animate 
to the field one who may always repose on a couch of 
down, or crown himself with roses. There are, I grant," 
she continued, "two kinds of courage — ^the courage of 
the animal, and that of the moral or rational being. But 
when either is deficient, the fiat of the world has gone 
forth against the want of it. The failure of our unfor- 
tunate campaign was no surprise to those who heard the 
sentiments of ofiicers who served in the first Spanish 
campaigns ; and our disasters on the continent were 
foreseen from fatal experience, particularly those com- 
manded by Lord Chatham. But every thing at that 

moment," Lady [ ] observed, " was sacrificed to party 

spirit. In fact, since the death of Mr. Pitt, there has 
been no leader. The set then in power had no heads, and 
the former were all heads ; so that, whoever was in or 
out, the country suffered from the spirit of party, which 
like the Roman CathoUc religion, rejects every thing, 
however meritorious, that is not within its own pale." 

Lady [ ] described a watch which a person at 

Cork showed her, which had belonged to the unfortunate 

Digitized by 



Louis XVI. It was only the size of a common French 
watch, but was full of mechanism, and comprises, besides 
the ordinary functions of a time-piece, an ahnanac, a diary 
of the weather, and various other singular contrivances. 
It was given to the present owner by Lord Llandaff , who 
it is hoped will make a wiser use of the lessons taught 
by time, than did the unfortunate monarch to whom it 
first belonged. 

"Sad news reached us at that time from Spain," 

continued Lady [ ]. "And Lord [ ] was quite 

cast down about Sir John Moore, of whom he thought 
very differently from some, of a certain convention, and 
was enchanted with Lord Moira's dissent on that business. 
About Waterford and Limerick, many families were 
obliged to leave their country seats, to take refuge in the 
towns, from different sets of ruflSans, who scarcely knew 
what they wanted, assailing their houses ; and though 
in fact they were not Bonaparte's emissaries, yet if he 
had made a landing, they would have joined him for the 
sake of plunder. The love the lower orders of Irishmen 
have for fighting, is ahnost incredible. They kill their 
antagonist, and cut their joke, with equal coolness. There 
were annual fairs held in some of the towns, where fighting 
with all sorts of weapons was the chief amusement ; and 
rather than lose the fun, they would swim a broad river 
at the risk of being drowned. On one occasion, at such 
a festival, a feUow cut off his antagonist's hand, which he 
lifted up and tossed to him, saying coolly : " Arrah ! 
honey, you've dropp'd your glove." Brennan, the 
famous highwayman, who was a Uttle Bonaparte in his 
way, laid every body under contributions, and caused 
great alarm to travellers. He once robbed three officers 
in a post chaise, and going away told them he would 
report them to the Duke of York, as unworthy to serve 
the King, for allowing themselves to be robbed by a single 
man. He wore a leathern girdle round his middle, stuck 

Digitized by 



round with pistols. There was]^an attempt made by two 
police officers in the town of Tipperary to arrest him 
early in the morning in bed ^ but he jumped the ¥rindow, 
and his wife threw a pair of pistols out to him. They 
pursued him to a bye field, where they came up with him 
in his shirt,|but he kept them at bay with one pistol, while 
with the other, he stood over the poor policeman, till he 
made him strip ofi his clothes, which he put on himself ; 
thus making him return to town as he (Brennan) had left 
it, namely in his shirt. 

** On the occasion of my visit to Blarney Castle," 

continued Lady [ 1 " I thought myself in great danger 

for a few moments. On entering the portcullis, a ruffian 
figure, with matted locks, issued forth, and washed his 
hands in a puddle near the door. On entering the house, 
I observed the marble passage to be stained with blood, 
while a trembling figure of a female appeared to shew ua 
the old tower, whose walls are eighteen feet thick. Even 
in my terror, which was not small, I thought what a 
subject for Monk I^wis, Radclifie, or any of the ghost^ 
mongers : ruffians scowling at us — ^blood-stained passages 
— ^pallid figure — old tower — ?l keep, &a Alas ! my sober 
matter of fact had very soon developed the causes, or 
rather traced them to the slaughtering of a buUock or 
sheep ; and as Pat is not very ceremonious, he had in his 
master's absence, taken the nearest way to wash ofE the 
effects from his hands. As to the trembling housekeeper, 
a fit of the ague, which was very prevalent in that neigh- 
bourhood, accounted for her perturbation. The air 
from the tower was so cold, that I declined going up to 
kiss the famous stone at the top, which endows those 
who salute it with the gift of flattery for ever and aye* 
Blarney Castle used to be the seat of Lord Clancarty ; 
but it had come into the possession of a Mr. Jeffries, and 
there were no remains of ancient splendour. Within the 
walls there were marks of present poverty ; but aomo 

u H 

Digitized by 



traces of pasi taste in the drawing room. I thought I 
could perceive that an el^ant female mind had once 
presided there, and I fdt more touched by those Uttle 
relics, than if they had partaken of more masculine studies. 
I learnt afterwards that the lady had been indeed a 
woman of taste and talent, daughter to a man of very 
fine parts, and the first banker in Ireland, Mr. La Touche." 

I asked Lady [ ] how she liked W. D[ ]y*s wife ; 

to which she replied : " Why, there was something about 
her I could not help liking ; she was warm-hearted, frank 
and lively ; though haughty, tenacious, and somewhat 
satirical. But in the world, one should always take the 
favourable side of things and people ; and though more 
cautious in my opinion than I was twenty years ago, I 
hope always to be young enough to take the sunny side. 

" At that time," continued Lady [ ], " all the world 

were engaged in reading Ida of Athens. I think it was 
likely to please a vivid imagination^ but would displease 
the matter of fact reader. The language is, in my opinion, 
pedantic, and fatigues the eye and ear with a constant 
glitter of high flown words ; though some parts of it are 
doubtless very beautiful. But the sentiments are so be- 
dizened with tinsel that they are hardly to be made out." 

Such was the substance of Lady [ ]'s conversation 

}^esterday. She is an agreeable person, and much softened 
lately by ill-health, which is, I think, an improvement 
to her manners and her mind. 

On my return home, I foimd several letters from 

England ; amongst them, one from Miss [ ], in which 

she speaks of W[ Js " Lights and Shadows of Scottish 

life " ; and her opinion is valuable and curious, as being 
that of a clever writer. She says : 

I hear you were charmed with the '' Lights and Shadows 
of Scottish Life." Some of them I think beautiful, some 
of them ridiculous, and all want truth and reality; for 
though I still can relish a fairy ta)e or a romance, yet I do 

Digitized by 



not like fiction in the garb of tnith.^HH|nin Zurich, from 
iancy, they are fine ; as pictures of ^VPHi^s house. My 
nature, they are false. But do not le^tn^ 

[ ] is an awfu' man to have for one's ^tmxiy* 

wonder of the day, I think, is that " Adalb Bkljkr character, 
the author of " Valerius" — two works so fetalwch Rousseau 
every respect. What prodigious versatilit; Jr|her, which 
writer of them must possess ! Of course ydjW qifc. are dirty, 
Lockhart, the son-in-law of Scott. ^^* he idlers 

'"^J^ the 

Another correspondent from Ireland writes : ^^' ^^^ 

'■4C1 ax 

I have just received an excuse from Miss 0^*-^— ] 1 him 

was coming to pay us a visit. Miss 0[ ]*§ first tettis dis- 

me was so romantic, at fourteen it would have been eHispici^'' 
ing, at forty it seems extravagant. Her second L " >"OTi^ 
rational. She appears a very obliging person. S he m ^^Sv 
enthusiastic, as you may judge by her writings ; WFshe is 
lively, and very ready at repartee. The family she has been 
visiting like her extremely, and there is to me an enchanting 
frunkness about her which is very pleasing ; though her 
enemies term it forwardness. I had some conversation with 
her about her works, and she candidly confessed that, like 
all young writers, her first essay was full of pedantry, but that 
time and practice had worn Ihat off ; and that as far as it 
was possible to say any thing human was original, her work 
in the press just now, was entirely her own, without toy 
quotations whatever. 

I wished to have seen the famous Curran while in Dublin, 
but the Bishop of Cork tells me he is a disgusting, ugly, 
disagreeable fellow. 

The Irish are either the richest, or the most thoughtless 
of all people ; as they hve like princes. I told you of my 
surprise at seeing an Irish wake, and the howling of the paU 
bearers: it seems there are howlers by profession, and of 
different degrees of excellence, as there are in opera singers. 
A woman named Sheela, is a Catalan! in the science, and 
they say : " Have you bespoken Sheela ? Och, she howls 
iligantly I Ah I God bless you, do get Sheela, or it will not 
be worth going to I " So you may judge what the house of 
mourning is amongst the low Irish. 

Digitized by 



traces of past ch at General [ ]. He is a fine old Welsh- 
could peicei V mounted on horseback, looks like one of the 

presided thej^^^^^*^ warriors. The Lady D[ ] is hand- 

J^l- xu«- 4> perhaps rather embonpoitU, but she is very 
reucs,inanjj ^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ Empress of Russia. She has 
1 leamc ^jp^^ ^ ^^ - jj^^ j ^an g^ gj^^ is of a violent 
woman qtudi is only reined in by policy, which makes her 
fine part^f not offending general opinion. 

I asbishop of C[orkj,* brother to the Earl of Qowtb. is 
to vDrih& pleasantest men I ever met. 
her^y ^i ^ says " Miss [ ^] is an odious little toad " ; 

* Miss [ ] says " Lady D[ '\ is no better than she 

hid be/' So much for ladies' quarrels, which seem to be 

^^^nt indigenous to every soil and climate, 
fayo^w an Irish funeral yesterday. It is really a curious 
le. There were two hundred mourners, and the coffin 
painted all sorts of colours, and was borne by women 
whose distressed faces and discordant howls were fitted rather 
to waft the soul to the lower regions rather than the supemaL 
I was introduced lately to a sort of literary curiosity, a 
Lady Saxton. She was intimate and corresponded with soxqe 
of the members of the bos bUu a hxmdred years ago ; — ^Mik 
Carter, Montague, &c. I was disappointed. I had heard 
too much. I expected an original work, and I found only 
extracts bound in yellow parchment ; or to speak plainly, a 
waUdng index of quotations from every author, dead or 
alive. This may amuse for a little time, but to hve with I Oh I 
no, give me in a companion the mind which is imbued as it 
were with the spirit of what it reads, rather than the words : 
not but after all, I would give a great deal for a share of the old 
ladsr's tenacious memory. She appears very good humoured 
notwithstanding her pedantry. I expected to have seen more 
drinking and gaming in Ireland than I have met with. As to 
the first, I have hterally not seen one gentleman confused even 
with wine, either in public or private company ; but I am 
told there is much gaming goes on in female society in and 
about Cork ; and there is a place about four miles off, Casino 
Row, where in the finest weather, cards are produced im« 
mediately after breakfast, and the set agree in avowing that 
they never wish to see anything green but the card table J 

* Hon. Thomas St. Lawrence (1751*1831), Bialkop of Cork sad Rom. 

Digitized by 



November 5/A. — I received a letter from Zurich, from 
a pet9on who had been visiting Rousseau's house. My 
friend writes thus — 

It is a plain farm building of no particular character, 
either of a rural or romantic kind. The room which Rousseau 
inhabited, is a small square chamber within another, which 
bears no distinctive mark of any kind. The walls are dirty, 
and scrawled over by all the nameless names of the idlers 
who would fain have associated their insignificance with the 
memory of its extraordinary inmate. I looked in vain for 
some sign to indicate that Rousseau had hVed here, and at 
length I perceived a trap door which might have served him 
to escape by had he been pursued. The sensation this dis- 
covery produced was painful ; why should such suspicion 
have lurked in such a mind ? Suspicion without cause is 
the attribute of mean minds. But how faint is the shade 
which divides sensibility from madness. Certain it is that 
except in this one instance neither the room, the furniture, 
nor the place had in them any thing in their air or appear- 
ance which assimilated with the genius of Rousseau. But it is 
a mistake to expect always to find the dwellings of eminent 
persons analogous to the pre-conception we have formed of 
their tastes and piursuits. The greatest minds frequently 
despise the more puerile objects of taste or comfort,, and 
they contemn those who are slaves to these graces of file. 
I once had a striking instance of the truth of this remark, 
which occurred on the occasion of Madame de Stall's visiting 

Lady [ "] at a small country house, which she had takan 

pains m honour of her visit, to decorate with particular care. 
Madame de Stall's only observation upon the pretty villa, 
and its comfortable apartments was to exclaim to the pro- 
prietor ! " Md chire, vous avez trop de luxe" she considered 
the oveiprown state of luxury in England as a moral danger ; 
and in individuals, she reprobated the sj^tem as tending 
to weaken the mind, and make it a slave to mean desires. 
Madame de StaeTs own house at Coppet was a specimen of 
what she considered a proper dwelling ; and certainly a more 
comfortless and barren looking abode could not be found|; 
yet how proud and gratified were the persons whom she 
invited to visit her there I and the total want of outwatd 

Digitized by 



objects of taste and ease were in truth never missed by those 
who enjoyed the intellectual delight of her society, and 
listened to her wonderful conversation. Yet I cannot agree 
with her in thinking that a locale furnished with good taste 
impedes the powers of the mind. I would rather say the 
imagination is assisted by a judiciously selected class of 
pleasing objects ; and I cannot help thinking there is a degree 
of intellectual pride, in disdaining all the refinements of 
existence ; just as there may cert£unly be reason to despise 
an overweening desire for them, and to apprehend that too 
great a subserviency to their influence may render a person 
insignificant and trifling. Literary genius is seldom united 
with taste. Human nature on its great scale is the study 
of powerful intellect. "The proper study of mankind is 
man " ; but the accessories of the oortrait are to such minds 
an indiJSerent and trivial matter. 

I have felt half inclined lately to leave Rome. I am 
weary of the place"; yet I know not where to go, whither 
the same ennui and restlessness would not follow me. 
It is not change of scene, but change of mind, which 
would give me peace and content ; and since that cannot 
be obtained by removal, I may as well continue here as 
go elsewhere. The city itself is fuU of interest, as well 
as the surrounding country ; but without any native 
attachments to the soil, or even with it, can any features 
of any country confer happiness ? No ; great remem- 
brances, works of art, charm of climate, may give 
physically and morally, an existence out of oneself^ 
which confers a species of factitious felicity — ^perhaps the 
only species of feUdty which really exists. But mere 
magnificence or beauty of landscape cannot effect it. 

This morning I was agreeably surprised by the arrival 

of my friend [ ]. But when the heart has been often 

bruised, often disappointed, it opens with reluctance to 
any approach of joy which is likely to expose it to further 
disappointments and fresh regrets. A new Englishman 
is arrived, by name S[ ]. He is full of Hterature, full 

Digitized by 



of aspiring sentiments, vain perhaps, but not unpleasantly 
so. He would be very delightful, if a doubt of his sin- 
cerity did not check the feeling of good-will one is tempted 
to pay his apparent qualities ; but he is too diffuse in 
his preferences, too general in his admiration of others. 
Yet this ought not to be a fault. Why is it so in him ? 
He told me the Princess of Wales is again expected at 
Naples. I should imagine, from many accounts of other 
Mr. and Mrs. Thompsons, that the sijour at Naples 
would be very unfit for our Mrs. Thompson. But then, 
when we take things in our heads, neither devils nor angels 
can drive them out again. 

I received a letter from [ ] from which the toflowing 

is an extract : — 

I cannot bear to have you out of England ; yet I think it 
very natural to like being abroad, especially when one grows 
old, and tired of things one is used to. To change the face 
of nature, moral and physical, must renew youth, at least 
in a mental sense. I confess that people who have been used 
to live abroad, prefer it to their own country so much the 
more. The advantages of climate are greater ; but I do not 
see that the society, when the charm of novelty is at an end, 
would be preferable to that of your own country. It is true, 
there is much more brilliancy, less coldness and reserve in 
foreigners; but is not there something of frivolity in that 
constant ^ort — ^in that unceasing desire to please in com- 
pany — ^in that inexhaustible chatter — and in that weariedness 
they have of themselves ? Madame De Coulange is admirably 
drawn by Miss Edgeworth, and is, I believe, a very common 
French diaracter. There is an emigr6 here, who resembles 
Madame De Coulange to the life. — ^So you say no love but 
one fills the heart. I believe it is true ; but is not that one 
love of such a strong nature that it hardly ever confers happi- 
ness ? As to myself, I am too ugly now to seek for love, 
though as Love is blind, I may indulge a hope on the score 
even yet. One thing is certain — " No person is happy who 
has not some duties to perform. These may be duU and 
disagreeable; but they certainly give ns soUd satisfaction 

Digitized by 



la thfi ebd, when properly attended to/' As for me, I am 
DOW quite oonviiK^ that there is no permanent happiness 
in this world. There is always, even in the things and people 
we best like, sotM defect, and the aching void is left in the 
heart. Yet there are numberless sources of enjoyment also, 
if we do but open our minds to their reception ; but they 
are enjoyments of another dass from the imaginative ones 
of youth. I reckon myself a person of a very aimante di^ 
position. In all my castle-buildings I never, in my nAole 
Ufe, desired wealth or grandeur. My ideal happiness rested 
on affection. Yet the strongest affections of our nature I 
Was never destined to enjoy, — ^those of daughter, a wife, or 
a mother. My mother never cared for any of her children. 
Thus disappointed in all those sources in which Women 
should look for happiness, I have been a very lonely creature ; 
still I have not been altogether unhappy, as all these depriva- 
tions have sat upon my spirits lightly ; and now that I have 
bid hope good night, I feel a greater tranquillity than formerly. 
What does it signify ? I alwaj^ ejaculate ; it is the old story 
of the Mountain and the Mouse ; we must bring our mind 
to our fortune, not being able to bring our fortune to our 
mind ; and there is one love that creates no disappoint- 
ment — ^the love of what is good — the love of purifying and 
ennobling our own character — ^the love of all that is upright 
and benevolent in morality — of all that is beautiful and pure 
in- nature. 

I hear the Regent has given a mad daughter of James 
Boswell a pension. She is insane, and very unworthy in all 

A piece of scandal happened here lately, that has made 
me feel doubly indignant, because I knew the hero. What a 
brute he is I and I am among the very few ladies who were 
acquainted with him. Lord S[ ] is a tall, fat, butcher- 
like man, in personal appearance, between forty and fifty, 
who has forfeited respectability of every kind, and lived by 
charity and keeping a school ; and a young, pretty woman, 

a Mrs. D[ ], has gone off with him. Her husband, itfis 

said, is a very agreeable young man. He had been in Sweden, 
and ^e was living in the luxuries of London with her sister. 

Lady H. [ ], and as soon as her husband returned she 

eloped with Lord S[-~-]. He must have gained h«r hfttrt 

Digitized by 



by writbig love-letters. I onee saw one he had addressed 
to a servant girl, which she dropped, and it was given to me 
to read, and it was delicate and beantiful — ^in the style of 
Werter to Charlotte. I am sure the abigail could not under- 
stand it. They say this foolish Mrs. D[ ] is a most agree- 
able person. What a fool every woman is who sacrifices her 
reputation and honour to any man, even were there no higher 
consideration to deter her from error. 

I have been reading Wraxall's Memoirs of the House of 
Valois. It is a very diverting book. The discovery that I 
make from it is, that men were at that time sooner old than 
they are now. All the kings of France died of old age at 
fifty ; but ladies lasted longer. At sixty-six, Diana of 
Poitiers was so beautiful that no man could behold her 
without love. 

I heard the little heiress. Miss D[ ], was called before 

the police the other day, at the complaint of her maid, whom 
she had beaten and thrown down on the fender and cut her 
face. I could hardly believe it until I heard her say bo 

Is it possible that any woman, much less any lady, can so 
far forget herself as to allow passion thus to demean her in 
the eyes of inferiors ? and yet it is confidently asserted that 
many similar instances exist, which are only hushed up by 
large sums of money. 

I hope it is not true that the Regent's heart is'set upon 
obtaining a divorce from his poor wife. It will do the country 
infinite harm to make a disturbance on this subject. But he 
does not care, in fact, whether she is without fault or not ; 
therefore he might be satisfied with forsaking her. As he 
has an heir, there is no occasion for him to marry again. He 
had better look at home; there is something to be done, 
which he had best do quickly. 

It is said Mrs. P[ ] is going to take another husband, 

a colonel of the dragoons. Is it not a shame ? The woman 
must have no feeling and no taste. All England will upbraid 
her for such a sinking in poetry. 

Talking of widows. Lady M[ ] is coming here on her way 

to London, and desires a party may be made for her every 
night, for she cannot bear to be a minute alone. She is going 
to look out for another husband. I wonder who will take her« 

Digitized by 



I heard that one of the Ladies [ ] had run away with 

a Captain M[ ]n, the man who stands on his head. It 

is the third one of that family who has eloped, if it be true. 

" Discipline *' is come out, by the authoress of " Self- 
Control." ♦ It is very good, and I like it better than the 
other by the same writer. It is methodistical in the second 
volume — ^too much so ; but the last is extremely interesting. 
Certainly she is a powerful writer. I was told Walter Scott 
received six thousand pounds for " Waverley/' and as much 
for "Guy Mannering." There are some highland persons 
drawn in the characters in "Discipline/' which are very 
cleverly sketched, and amused me beyond measure. I am to 
meet the authoress, Mrs. Brunton, to-night ; but I am told 
she has no conversational powers. I have lately had the 
advantage of becoming acquainted with Mr. J[effrey] ; he 
has reviewed " Waverley " and given it high praise, and ends 
by desiring Walter Scott, if he is no^ the author, to look 
well to his laurels, for that he has got a much more powerful 
opponent than any who have yet entered the lists with him. 

" The Lord of the Isles " is a charming work, and so 
esteemed in this town. I hear it is so everywhere. I heard 

to-day, in the way of gossip, that the Duke of B[ ] has run 

oS with a beauty from Brighton ; but that none of the 

Ladies [ ] have had any thoughts of eloping— only one 

of them is to be married to Lord A[ ]. Sir H. M[ ^]y's 

letters are published, and never was sudi stufiE read. Surely 
it is a very bad trade to write love-letters. And now I must 
bid you adieu* 

fours, &c 

November ^th. — I went to see a nun take the black veil« 
or inviolable vow. The ceremony was long, as the bishop 
performed mass, which is the only difference between the 
forms of a noviciate and a professed nun. It is a solemn 
ceremony, and must be dreadful when the vows are con- 
strained. In this instance, the young woman appeared 
to go through it with the utmost composure, and read 
her engagements with a clear steady voice. She was 

* Mrs. Brunton, nie Bfary Balfour of Elwick, wife of the Rev; 
Alexander Ifoontoii, D.D. 

Digitized by 



only three-and-twenty, I was informed ; and though not 
handsome, very pleasing in her appearance. To my feel* 
ings, the prospect of a convent life is, without exception, 
the most melancholy fate ; to be buried aUve is another 
word for the same thing. 

Mr. and Mrs. S[ ] are arrived ; they are not suited 

to any place but London, or any society but their own 
narrow circle of acquaintance. They wearied me for an 
hour by grumbling at the want of English comforts, and 
abuse of the Italian manners and customs ; at length, 

these complaints over, Mr. S[ ] conversed weU ; he is 

an amusing person, though his manners are not in good 

taste ; he is so self-sufficient. In speaking of Mr. J[ ]y 

he said that he had not been pleased with the Princess 
of Wales ; that he had called her vulgar, and dted an 
instance when, in a large party. Her Roy^l Highness had 
cried out, " What are you doing, there ?— come tell me 

the joke ? " — upon which, said Mr. J[ ]y, we had to 

repeat what was very fade in repetition. Then, continued 

Mr. S[ ], he foimd fault with the Princess's mode of 

dressing. I repUed, that as to the first cause of his dis- 
satisfaction, I could not see it was so very wrong in the 
Princess to inquire what had occasioned the mirth of her 
guests ; but that certainly, I and all her friends had often 
lamented the style of her toilette, in later times especially ; 

but that I thought it was cruel in Mr. [ ] to allow his 

political feelings to make him speak ill of any individual ; 
and that, as his predilection in favour of the other party 
was so well known, his opinion of the Princess would never 
go for much with unprejudiced persons. 

Upon my making this reply, Mr. S[ ] joined with 

me, and seemed well pleased to have an opportunity of 

disparaging Mr. [ ], and said, "It is laughable to 

observe how he is himself constantly running after the 
youngest, handsomest, and most fashionable girls. They 
will not always receive his attentions ; but, for the value 

Digitized by 



of his wit and penetration, they bear with his ugly face 
and gnawed nails." 

. Mrs. S[ ] diverted me by the account of a mas- 
querade which took place lately at [ ], in which several 

of my old acquaintances figured with great iclat. '' Lady 

[ y* die said, " was quite inimitable as a belle of the 

last century, in a goigeous flowered brocade sack^and 
petticoats, hoop, high heels, dressed head, and all the 
other ensigns of torture that the wit of woman ever 
invented. Her manners corresponded perfectly with her 
attire ; she was such a happy mixture of the prudery 
and coquetry of the old school, with a shrill voice, a 

flippant tongue, and a squeaking laugh. Miss [ ^] 

attended as her lover, in a coat and waistcoat that I 
think could only have been presented by the queen of 
Sheba to long Solomon, in those blissful days when 
* silver was accoimted as nothing,' neither was gold any- 
thing. Walter Scott furnished her with her head-dress. 
She observed, ^ would it had been the inside rather than 
the out ! * It was an enormous and most superV flaxen 
wig, all over curls and ringlets that descended to^^her 
waist. Such she was, as Sir Hercules Dimple of Violet 
Bower, World's End Close, handed her in as the Lady 
Penelope Primrose, Meal Market Stairs, Cowgate ! — ^Miss 

[ ^] exhibited as an old ballad singer, whom nobody 

would listen to ; and in truth she presented a most un- 
promising aspect, as she had chosen to mask in a nose 
and chin, not meeting, but actually met, never to part 

I should have liked to see all these worthy and Celebrated 
personages bedizened according to this description ; the 
more so as they enacted the parts to the life, I am told. 

I heard that there is a son of Lord Don^al's who will 
have about five hundred thousand a year one of these 
days ; and a Mr. Thellusson, who has nearly the same 
tttormous income. I should not be believed, wete I to 

Digitized by 



say 9o» but I have not the least desire for such great riches ; 
and, whenever I did indulge in castle building, I never 
imagined more than an elegant abundance ; but no state 
or show — ^I could not abide it. ** La grandeur et Tamour 
vont mal ensemble," though fine people would be loth 
to allow it. 

Mis. S[ ] dined, a short time before leaving Scotland^ 

in company with Walter Scott at Ifr. Mackenzie's. She 
said he was most uncommonly agreeable, and also his 
wife ; for she is natural and lively, and speaks broken 
English ; — all charming accompliahmeDts. 

After my visit to Mrs. l- ^], I returned home, and 

read Miss Seward's Letters. I think them veiy enter- 
taining, though the style is much too laboured and 
affected for letter writing* She is a clever woman, and 
they contain much reflection and criticism ; tber^ is 
more in them than the generality of published letters, 
but not one atom of simplicity or nature. In one of her 
letters to Walter Scott, she praises C. S[harpe Pfs poetry« 
which pleases me, and will him^ still more, though he has 
forsaken the Muses now, I hear» to pay homage to the 
Graces, and runs about from baJb to masquerades. 

Sir [— : — ] has been pursuing Mrs. [ 1 Lady [ 3's 

mother, for five thousand pounds, paid for the main- 
tenance of a child, and which he now repents of having 
given, and denies it was for that purpose. One would 
suppose a public man's character was of more value to 
him than five thousand pounds. Will Lord and Lady 

[ ^3 go on as usual, and take no notice ? 

L^dy [ ^] lent me Mrs. Grant's "Superstitions of 

the Highlands," and I like what I have read of it ; but, 
above all things, I admire Mr. Jefifrey's review of it, and 
also a review of Ford's plays, in which latter there are 
some beautiful pieces of writing, especially in "The 
Broken Heart." I am sorry they are disgraced with 
such coarseness. It does not do to tear off the drapery 

Digitized by 



of a moral imagination, and expose our naked and shiver- 
ing nature. But certainly those powerful pictures of 
the passions that were exhibited in former days, make a 
good contrast to the tameness of modem performances. 
I do not like " Love's Melancholy " at all. The character 
of Penthea in ** The Broken Heart ** is very fine ; but 
I could not see the advantages of making Calantha dance 
on when all her friends are dead. 

Lady [ ] harangued for two hours about the Princess 

of Wales having lost herself so much, and asked me why 
she had canvassed against her friend Lord Eldon at the 
election for Oxford. 

I heard rather a good conimdrum: — ''How is the 
greatest heiress in Scotland in danger of being drowned ? ** 
— (Answer.) Because she will be long losiina. Pool : and 
another addition was made to it-^and then in Welles-/y^. 

I am sorry Lord [ ] did not get Miss Long. I am 

sure he is handsomer and more agreeable than young 
Pole, whom I do not admire. 

The Duke of C[ambridg]e is running about asking all 
the girls possessed of money to marry him I I wonder 
Miss M[erce]r was not deluded by the prospect of perhaps 
beconyng the mother of kings.* 

I received a letter from Mrs. [ ], who, by some strange 

report, supposes me living at Geneva, instead of Rome. 

I will not let you have your heart taken away from making 
the agrimens of society, by Madame de Stael, or any other 
bookmonger, whom you are worth fifty of. By the way, / 
think that ^ebrated lady very worldly, in deeds if not in 

More extracts from Letters. 

The assizes here are not quite over ; yet I cannot say they 
have produced any very gay amusements, except the play- 

* lie did not marry until 1818, when he married Princess Augusta 
^l^^lhelmiiia Louisa of Hesse-Cassel. 

Digitized by 



house being open. When I wrote to you last, I was in the 
agonies of doubt whether to visit or not to visit Miss Smith ; 
not so much from any illiberal scruples concerning her 
profession, as from an indolence which makes me hate the 
formality of making a new acquaintance ; — ^though I rather 
like to see strangers ; but then it must be unpremeditatedly. 
However, in this case, if I may be allowed the expression, a 
certain feeling of benevolence overcame my torpors, and I 
visited her. When I tell you that she has dined twice with 
me, and that I disposed of three dozen tickets for her benefit, 
you may conclude I have found her by no means a disagreeable 
acquaintance; which is the fact, as she is quite a gentle- 
woman, in private company, both in manners, dress, and 
personal appearance. She is an actress of great merit, 
particularly in tragedy; and her recitation of "Collins's 
Ode to the Passions" is most exquisite. Mr. Crampton, 
whom I believe I mentioned to you before, as being called 
the Apollo, seems a great admirer of her's, and I should not 
be surprised if he married her. So much for the subject 
of the drama, of which I am afraid I have told you more 
than you will care to hear. 

I went last week on an excursion to the Cove of Cork, 
which is one of the lions of this part of the country* The 
scenery on each side of the river for about five miles is dose 
and woody, till within sight of the harbour, when conse- 
quently the vicinity of the ocean changes the scene both by 
land and sea. The former is bolder and more bleak ; the 
latter is animated by myriads of ships of all descriptions, 
riding on its surface. This harbour is large enough to contain 
the whole British navy. It is gemmed with several Uttle 
islands, which are fortified for its defence — Camden Fort, 
Carlisle Fort, and Spike Island. On the last named we 
landed, to view the fortifications and barrack$ carrying on 
for defending the mouth of the harbour, which were b^n * 
four years since; and although they are not half finished, 
they have already cost government the sum of forty-five 
thousand pounds annually. It seems a singular thing to 
praise and admire a stone wall ; but I can figure nothing 
more perfect of the kind than the workmanship of that round 
Spike Island. It gives one an idea of the works of the Romans 
or Egyptians, l^ere are six hundred men now at work 

Digitized by 



daily. I never saw 90 busy a scene, and all one mass of bare 
bleak land in the middle of the ocean; proving (if proof 
were wanted) that nothing is made in vain 

The Ix>rd Lieutenant, and his lady are expected here, 
which of course will occasion a great commotion. I am told 
she is very fond of her r^gal dignity, and tenacious of her 

I also went another day to see a beautiful parsonage of Mr. 

and Mrs. B[ ]. He is son to the Archbishop [of York]. 

He looks like a lad of twenty, and has six children. But in 
general they marry very early here ; and in the lower ranks 
there is no such thing as procuring an unmarried servant of 
cither sex. But alas I this does not make them more moral ; 
for having five or six children bom to them, they disperse 
them amongst their friends, and then the man goes one way« 
and the wife another. 

[ ] is here, and talks a great deal to me about the Prin- 
cess of Wales. He said the other day that no act of her 
life ever put him into such a rage at her, as when the report 
reached England of her brother, the Duke of Brunswick's 
death.* She went on, he said, as if nothing had happened, 
and had company the day after the event was generally 
believed to have taken place. She had received no official 
notice, it was true. Still one should have supposed she would 
have been in a state of suspense almost more painful than 
after having received the certain intelligence of his being 
no more. 

I hear William B[ ]l has given her Royal Highness his 

resignation. She is at Como, I was told just now, and quite 
deserted by all her English attendants. Faulty and foolish 
as that poor woman is, there is something horrible in her 
being so totally abandoned by the whole world, and forced 
to seek comfort and amusement in society which is degrading, 
and will ruin her, sooner or later, in every sense of the word. 
A person staying at Como writes to me that they were very 
sorry for their voisinage, as well as for the gossip that is 
already raised in that smaU district, and the anecdotes they 
hear from their landlord. The courier was bred and brought 
up there, and lived as valet de chambre with a comtessa 
cknebyComo; and all the people knew him in that capacity ; 
♦ June 16, 18 1 5. 

Digitized by 



and now he visits them in a carriage and four I and bis sister * 
has succeeded Lady C[harlotte] C[ampbel]l I What a pitiable 
arrangement! The Milanois made a great inquiry about 
the name of this woman, and the Princess tells everybody 
she has been recommended to her by a policeman»t who is 
a most respectable person, and that everything he recom- 
mended to the Princess was proper. The prefect at Como 
asked the policeman if this was true, and he said he had never 
recommended anybody to her Royal Highness. So all Milan 
and Como are in wonder, and talk of nothing else. The 
Oldi is nobody, even by marriage, and before that she was a 
servant's sister of the lowest orda:. The report is, that this 
vile courier compels the Princess to live here in the midst of 
all his relations, that he may show oS what a great man 
he is. Can you imagine anybody not out of Bedlam being 
so blind to their future interests ? Even allowing there 
is nothing wrong in the intimacy, how this story will tell 
against her ! and how impossible it is that a matter of this 
sort can be concealed I The foreigners are all so affronted 
at the person honoured and put above them, that they talk 
more ttian we British should do had she taken an English 
menial into her service, and elevated him above his proper 

I hear Lady [ ] is going to be divorced for [ ] ; but 

the infamy of [ ] House and her husband wfll save him 

from having to pay damages ; and they say that there will 
be most dkgraceful disclosures proved. 

The T[ ] B[ ]s have been living, I hear, a good deal 

with the Princess of Wales, and there is a report that she has 
taken a house at Venice for the next winter. 

Notwithstanding all that is alleged against this unhappy 
Princess, I cannot help feeling sorry for her, and she is, in 
despite of abuse, an interesting person. I always wonder 
why her brother remained passive in her defence, and why 
so near a relation did not demand the reasons of her being 
so insulted and so maligned. Who could so properly have 
avenged her rights as the Duke of Brunswick ? Alas I the 
age of chivalry is long since gone by ; those in place and 
power will not risk the loss of those advantages by raising 

* Countess Oldi. the sister of Bartolomeo Bergan^t 

t The Marchese Qhisilieri, who was at the hec^c} 9I (he police, 

n } 

Digitized by 



their voices ia the cause of the oppressed ; and the voices 
of those ivfao have neither would be raised i& vam. 

If we ever meet, my dear friend, m this world, I would ask 
you some questions on this subject, respecting assertions 
which, from my ignorance, I did not dare to combat. Lord 
Forbes is still absent, and General Heron remains hem. He 
is gentlemanlike, and very useful in franking ; and is a smart 
little man, who seems to hold number one, and his teeth so 
weB set, in proper respect. 

Farewdl for the present, and believe me, &c. 

November jth. — I had the pleasure of receiving a brief 
but very welcome letter from the Princess Charlotte, 
in which she says, 

The only person now remaining with my mother, and 
who, I trust, win take courage and continue with her, is Dr. 
Holland, who, I believe, from everj^thing I have heard of 
him, is a most respectaMe and respected diaracter. I have it 
not in my power at present to repay any services shown the 
Princess of Wales; but if I ever have, those who remain 
stedf ast to her diaH not be forgotten by me ; though I fear 
sensible people like him never depend much on any promises 
from any one, still less from a royal person ; so I refrain from 
making professions of gratitude, but I do not fed them the 
less towards all those who show her kindness. 

I have not heard from my mother for a long time. If 3«)u 
can give me any intelligence of her, I should be much obliged 
to you to do so. I am daily expecting to be confined, so you 
may imagine I am not veiy comfortable. If ever you think 

of me, dear [ ^J, do not imagine that I am only a princess, 

but remember me, with Leopold's kind compliments, as 
your sincere friend, 


The Lord Advocate left off supporting the falling 
ministry, I heard the other day, (with whose fall he will 
lose his lord advocateship, three thousand a-year,) to 
attend his wife's confinement. She would not he in of 
her ninth child without him ! She is pretty, and clever, 

Digitized by 


'^^ '^>'f' 

^t. n'ntll, dtU. 


T. lyrighl, scuipi. 


Digitized by 


Digitized by 



and agreeable. He is ugh/y and reck<Hied a screw ; but 
I think him agreeable ; and he has proved he hked her 
better than money. 

In a letter from [ ], I am told, Mrs. A£ ]e is 

popular, which I did not expect she would be, thoisgh I 

think her charming ; and nobody laughs at Mr. P[ ]'s 

adoration of her but the wicked S[ ]. It is evident 

to all the world, the former is in love with that lady ; 
but as for her lovjog him, it is, I should think, quite out 
of the question. I suppose his head and heart are made 
of the same materials as other men's. The first must 
suggest to him that three thousand aryear and so agree- 
able a companion would be very desirable objects ; — 
the last may suffer from disappointment in the piusuit. 

"Hardly anybody," says my correspondent, "who 
walks two or three miles from town fails to meet them. 
Some people have amused themselves walking bdiind 

tiiem in a lane. One individual declares Mrs. [ ] 

complained of being cold, then took off her glove, and — 
gave her hand* which he held between his for a mile. I 
cannot help thinking that was mighty ludicrous ; yet, 
they are quite in the right if they like it ; and if the pro- 
fessor does not break his heart, no harm will come of it. 
After all, it is very pleasant to please ; and those only 
who have no loves, rail at those who have." 

I was in low spirits all the day, though I had no new or 
particular cause for the depression. But it is often thus 
— ^past griefs cast a dark shadow over many years, long 
after their actual occurrence. I happened by chance, 
when in this mood, to open the " Lady of the Lake," 
and I thought, as I read it, so long as there were such 
sublime poems in the world to elevate and abstract 
the mind, that I never could be quite unhappy in any 
situation. There are so many interests and pleasures 
independent of the world ! Everybody must be dis- 
appointed that the heroine's lover is nothing, and derives 

Digitized by 



no interest from any circumstances except in being the 
object of her love ; and I was sorry Fitz-James kills 
Roderick. Fitz-James, perhaps^ could not help it, but 
Walter Scott could. It gives an uneasy sensation 

All the world seem to be eloping. Lady [ ], whom 

I called upon, informed me Mr. G[ ]e has eloped 

with a Mrs. D[ ], and Mr. J[ Jy is alwajrs living 

at H[ollan]d House. What a strange thing power is ! 
How it domineers over every human being ! Lady 
H[olland] is not liked by one person out of ten, yet she 
conmiands attention, from terror of her despotic will. 

In a letter from England, a person sa}^, 

The only person of note I have seen lately is Mr. [ ], 

Lady M[ ]'s husband. I was prejudiced against him, 

as I hate men who marry ladies of disreputable character, 
especially other men's partners. Besides, he told her daughter. 

Lady M[ ], that she did nothing more than other people, 

only she was found out. Now I di^ike the immoratity of the 
sentiment, and nearly as much the bad taste of declaring it ; 

therefore I could not bear Mr. [ ]. But when he came here, 

I wondered no longer at any one being charmed with him ; 
his appearance is so agreeable, his maimers so insinuating 
he is quite a second Bdial. 

I hear Mrs. A[ ] was enchanted with [ ]. I wish 

she would come back, and puff her off. Puffing does an 
insignificant person so much service in this world; so few 
people take the Uberty of judging for themselves. I wish 

Mrs. A[ ] would puff [ ] to Lord W. S[pense]r, who, I 

think, is just the husband made on purpose for [ ]. He is 

learned and handsome, and her grace would compensate 
for the mantle of awkwardness that enfolds him. But I 
fear he is not a manying man. 

Lady R[osebery] and Sir H. M[ildmay] are gone abroad ; 
and Lord R[o6ebay] lays his damages at thurty thousand 
pounds. Sir H[enry] has spent all his fortime already ; so 
I should think the lady will be very sorry for what she has 
done, as romance in poverty soon wearies, and wears out. 

A Mrs, D[ ]l went to Bath lately for her health, 

and ran aw^y with her physician, a Dr. D[ ] ; but she 

Digitized by 



protests it was en tout bien et tout honneur, and that he had 
only accompanied her on a jaunt for her health. 

Our afiairs seem going on badly in America. Lord Bever- 
le3r's son was saved, though his ship was blown up. Sir 
George Murray is made commander-in-chief there. 

[ ] is beginning to grow gay ; but I think gaiety is a 

fatiguing thing ; it wears out the spirits ; and unless one is 
in love, or goes forth to gratify one's vanity in being admired, 
there is no fun in large parties. 

Do you know the Chief Baron ? What a delightful person 
he is ! and what a bright ray of sunshine he tiirows round 
him ! Never was any one so popular. 

Southey's long epic poem, called " Roderick the Last of 
the Goths," is the new work. Every one is busy reading it, 
or sleeping over it. 

Sir H. Davy is going to publish a volume of poetry. I 
saw one of the poems ; it is very abstruse, and metaphysical, 
on the nature and essence of man, beginning with him as a 
suckling at the Uving rill, and going on till death infuses the 
natural parts into the dew and the firmament. Yet it does 
not cover a sheet of paper aU this process I 

I have become acquainted with a Mr. Cumberland, who 
must be agreeable, for he has an hereditary right to it. I 
have been reading his father's Ufe. It explains the story 
of a paper in the Observer, written by lum, that always 
interested me much, of his going to see a friend's place after 
his death, with the circumstance of his decease. It was the 
late Lord Sackville. 

I was sorry to receive a grumbling letter from Miss [ ], 

who threatens to leave the poor Princess of Wales. Now 
though, for any one else, such a service would not be desirable, 
for her, who is alone in the world, and has no other source of 
interest, I think it must be pleasant to reflect she was doing 
the Princess some good by remaining in her household. But 
reasoning with her is useless. The heart knoweth its own 
bitterness, and a stranger doth not intermeddle with its 
joys. Yet, I think we may have some influence on our own 
feelings, if we resolutely exert our reason. 

I heard from [ ], that he got a blank in the lottery ; 

and he has little hopes of court preferment. Poor soidl 
what odd foundations he builds his hopes on I I would^as 

Digitized by 



9O0n expect to make a fortune by wearving slockmgs» as 
either by the lottery or the favour of princes. He was to 
meet the prince at Lady Hampden's the night he wrote. 

Full little knowest thou, who hast not tried. 
What heU it is in hoping long to bide. 

Perhaps you may sometime or other endeavour to turn the 
Princess's favour towards him ; though, to be sure, as the 
proverb says, " between two stools," &c. 

You a^ me if it is not a hard fate to be an old maid. In 
my individual person, I do not wish to be married, because I 
th^ik I am too old. The only husband I should like, would 
be an agreeable man of fifty, with six or eight children, the 
ddest about ten or eleven years old. I would like them very 
much and be very meny with and good-humoured to them, 
so that there would be a chance of their liking me ; and if 
one is kind to children, and gives them a good example, I 
think they always turn out well ; and if they were fools or 
knaves, why it would not be my fault, and I should not care 
so much as if they were my own flesh and blood. 

I saw a man I fell in love with the other day ; he is a 
bachelor, as he told me ; a Sir George Paul. He is handsome, 
and has Fair noble. He is a kind of successor to Mr. Howard, 
and goes about into prisons, doing good. 

I am going to copy two beautiful pictures, a Venus and a 
Dsnae; the latter is the finest thing I ever saw. I intend to 

give it to Lady W[ Jy, to whom I solemnly promised a 

painting two years ago, and I always fulfil my promises sooner 
or later : 'tis a point of conscience. Now tell me, do you 
think it would be better to copy the head only of the pictures ? 
Venus's face is very handsome, but the flesh not so good as 
Danae's. The fomoer is putting on a piece of dress which 
I never knew Venus wore. 

There is an old man of seventy-three, who has a lovely 
place in this neighbourhood. He quarrelled with an old 

sister he had ; and my nephew, Mr. J[ ], who is his friend, 

said, if I would give him twenty pounds, he would give me 
five hundred, if I had not an ofiCer from him. Not meaning 
to many him, and thinking myself so irresistible be could not 
fail to propose had he an opportunity, I lost five hundred 
pounds ; for ten days after, he married a woman no older 

Digitized by 



than I am, and who is reputed to be very handsome and 
a^greeable. I have often observed nothing makes a woman 
so courted as marrying an old dotard, or driveller oi any kind. 
It is a foil to her ; though it only shows she is a stone of no 
price, to be so set. 

I hear Lady £[lizabe]th B[ingha]m is reckoned the most 
beautiful girl in London ; and so ends my stock of gossip, 
urtudi I dare not read over, lest I should be disgusted with all 
the nofia&Bfle I have written. However, I hope you will 
forgive it. 

[ ^J &c. 

My correspondent need not make any apology for her 
letters, for they are always entertaining, though I allow 
them to be often imprudent. No correspondence that is 
amusing is ever a safe medium of transmitting intelligence. 

In another letter from Lady [ ], who is at Paris, 

she writes : 

I have been here two months; and no person who has, 
like mjpself , been confined for many months to one secluded 
spot, can imagine the strange excitement produced by re- 
moving to so opposite a scene as this capital. I have felt 
hitherto incapabk of any employments, so much have I 
been taken up with sight-seeing ; yet although I have been 
amused, I doubt if I have been as happy as I was in my own 
land, and amongst my own people. Yet I have had every 
comfort and kindness bestowed upon me since I left England. 
Lady Hampden is the kindest person in the world, and very 
agreeable ; and not her least recommendations are her 
riches, which are so enormous that she is enabled to be gene- 
rous ; for which she has all the power as well as the inclination. 
I hved a sort of court life, — ^at least was always at the Tuilteries. 
Madame de Gontaut* (perhaps you know her) is a clever 
agreeable person. We dined there every day if we pleased. 
But we had never above six or seven people at dinner ; some- 
times a trio only, of Lady Hampden, herself, and I. But at 
eight o'clock her monde began to pour in, and remained 
till near twelve. A variety of persons of all naticms are 
acquainted with her ; that is to say, the best of the strangers 

* Eventually governess to the grandchildren of Charles X. of France. 

Digitized by 



who visit Paxis. I became acquainted at her house with 
Soult, the Duke of Dahnatia. He is the cleverest looking 
man I ever saw, and has a very fine head. He showed us 
his pictures, and a glorious collection they are. I never 
in my life saw pictures which went to my heart like them. 
I am quite certain the Mar6chal would have let me copy 
any I had chosen ; but, unfortunately, I only made hiis 
acquaintance a short time before our departure ; for I think 
Frenchmen are much more liberal in that way than English, 
to make up for their deficiencies in other good qualities. 

I was at one very great assembly at the Tuilleries, where 
all the French noblesse were. I had great pleasure in playing 
with the royal children. As for the Due de Bordeaux, if he 
had not been a futiu'e king, (that is to say, if they do not 
assassinate him like his father,) I should not have cared at 
all for him ; but mademoiselle, his sister, I should have been 
especially fond of, even if she had not had the misfortune 
of being royal. I used to tell them stories ; and she, being 
a very intelligent child, and never having heard them before, 
liked hearing them exceedingly. Mademoiselle is a very 
pretty child, as fair as fair can be. I admired the buildings 
at Paris, — ^the Louvre and Tuilleries, the Place Louis Quinze 
— ^all that part of Paris which is built along the river, &c., 
with the utmost enthusiasm. I had great pleasure in walking 
about by myself, for I found when I was in Lady Hampden's 
magnificent equipage, the price of every article was doubled ; 
and I was exceedmgly struck with some of the shop girls, 
and thought them the most elegant and graceful creatures 
I ever beheld. Indeed, I think there is a grace in the manners 
of the lower orders of women in Paris, I did not find in the 
higher. On the whole, they are a lively agreeable people, 
and kind-hearted ; but there is a want of truth and moral 
integrity about them which, when you find it out, is very 
disgusting ; also a want of sense and reflection ; and their 
religion is of a very demoralising nature ; but of course there 
are exceptions to aU rules. 

I saw your old acquaintance, Mr. N[ ]h, there. I 

always thought him very agreeable, and he is so still. He 
lives at Paris for the purpose, I believe, of inducing his taste 
for gambling. 

Adieu, yours, &ۥ 

Digitized by 



Sir [ ] called on me. He talked for a long time of 

the Princess of Wales ; and he told me how she had once 
annoyed him by making him borrow for her Royal High- 
ness several beautiful and costly Spanish dresses, which 

she had seen the Duchess De H[ ]s wear, and which 

she admired greatly. "The latter," said Sir [ ], 

'' was a slim tall woman, exceedingly thin and elancS in 
her figure, consequently her dresses could not at aU fit the 
shape of the Princess. But she was determined to put 
them on, and in doing so, tore and destroyed the clothes, 
which were very expensive ; and the poor Duchess 

was exceedingly mortified at their being spoilt. Sir [ ] 

told me that when he saw the Princess soon after Lady 

[ 3 having left her, she was loud in the expression of 

her indignation against that lady, but still more against 
the English nation in general, and their excessive selfish- 
ness on aU occasions. Her Royal Highness said that they 
never did anything for anybody but when it suited their 
interests, and that they thought they were to gain profit 
by it, of some kind or other. Many Englishwomen at 

Milan, she told Sir [ ], had refused to supply Lady 

[ ^Js place, even for a week or two, and therefore she 

was obliged to take a person of whom she knew nothing. 

This assertion, observed Sir [ ], " was so much dwelt 

upon, that the night I heard it I was almost seized with 
compassion. Lady W. Bentinck was the only exception 
who was named. All I could do for her, poor woman ! 

was to make W[ ] B[ 5 offer to go to Venice, 

which he did, but no further ; upon which she almost 
knelt to thank him, and said he was the most amiable 
person in the world. This occurred just as the Princess 
was going to dinner, and she asked him to come the next 
day to talk over the arrangements. He is afraid all his 
relations will be angry with him for having offered to 
attend her, for they are all the devoted slaves of the 
R^ent. When she said she wanted a lady, he replied, 

Digitized by 



' I wish I could put on petticoats, and attend 3K)u, 
madam, in that capacity 1 ' She answered, ^ I wish to 
God you could ! ' yet she never proposed his becoming 
her chamberlain. Poor William expected, at least, to have 
had a place in her carriage ; but when he went next day 
to receive his orders, he was told he must find his own 
way. The Princess went with the Italian woman she 
had hired, and the rest of her suite followed by her maids 
in the coach ; so William much repented his offer, as he 
did not enjoy the thoughts of spending his money on that 
journey ; and next day the Princess behaved very oddly, 
paid him no attention, and did not even wish him good 
night : in short, treated him quite as one of the servants 
of her household ; which, as he did not consider himself 
such, made him bitterly repent of what he had done. As 
to the lady whom her Royal Highness has got about her, 
she cannot be very illustrious, or well educated, for she 
speaks no language except her own, and that vulgarly ; 
while the Princess talks of her, and of ever3^hing that 
comes into her head, in French, of which this dame 
d'honneur does not seem to understand a single word. 

I think," added Sir [ ], " that the dumb woman, 

as the Princess herself styles this Countess Oldi, " must 
shatn^ in order to be saved from the trouble of repljang, 
as well as to find out everything that may be going on. 
In appearance I hear she is quizzical, and that William 
and all the servants laugh at her. In short, William was 
very sorry in having got into such company. I hear 

that Miss [ ], out of pure good-nature, offered her 

own services, and sent up her name to her Royal High- 
ness ; when the Princess, in the pres^ice of [ ], who 

was with her at the time, indignantly tore the card in 
pieces and said there was no answer. What infatuation ! 
The very fact of a respectable Englishwoman having 
tendered her services, was a piece of good fortune, which, 
at that juncture, the unhappy Princess ought to have 


Digitized by 



aekiMywledged with gratitude. When he heard there 
was a dame dans la voUure, he could not imagine what 

guilty object it was, till Miss C[ ] informed him 

afterwards it was herself. [ } desired Mr. [ ] to 

find out what her offence had been. The only cause she 
could think of for the Princess's strange conduct was her 
being an ally of Lady C. C[ampbell], against whom her 
Royal Highness is furious just now, on account of her 

having left her service. Bfiss M[ ] declares she will 

have some apology made her, before she ever enters the 
Princess's presence again. Miss M[ ] will go, how- 
ever, to her when she arrives at Como, for the sake of 
society ; but wifl not attend the Princess on her travels 
if she sends for her for that puipose-^not at least till she 
has explained her conduct towards her." 

" What a curious woman the Princess is ! " said Sir 

[ 3, "it is quite melancholy to see the foolish game 

she is playing of her own interest." 

The favoured person who, I am told, now dines at table, 
is styled Cauni, is said to be of an ancient decayed family, 
and is seen driving in the carriage with her at Como. 
These accounts may be lies — ^at least exaggerations ; 
and I trust they are such. The Princess, when Miss 

M[ ]e wrote to me, was going to give a great file at 

her new abode, and intends to christen it Villa d'Este ; 

and the tickets of invitation, which Miss M[ ]e saw 

printing, are signed "Caroline d'Este." I really think 
she must be mad, and I should like to see her for an 
instant, to assure myself she is the same woman whom 
we remember — so agreeable and so well behaved, but 
a few years back at Kensingtcm. 

In speaking of Mr. Whitbread, Sir [ ] told me he 

was quite an altered person for some time previous to 

his death. He told Sir [ ], in the beginning of May, 

that he felt something ailing him, and that if it was, as 
he supposed, to end in apoplexy, he only hoped that it 

Digitized by 



would kill him at once, and that he should not outlive 
his reason. For the last three weeks of his life he never 
slept for a single hour together. His death was a great 
loss to the Princess of Wales's cause. "Not that I 

think," observed Sir [ ], " he was interested so much 

in her individually, as he was in supporting the opposi- 
tion. However, be his motive what it might, he would 
have served, and perhaps saved her from coming to 
destruction. Therefore I was truly sorry at the event ; 
besides that he was a most amiable man in private 

Sir [ ^y who saw Lord E[ ]n after his visit to 

Elba, told him many things which, he said, awoke an 
interest in his feelings towards the exiled Bonaparte ; 

and Sir [ ] is of opinion that the EngUsh behaved 

shabbily at Naples to Murat. "What is the use of 
treating people ill in their adversity ? I cannot bear it," 
he observed. 

Lord G[ ] is very extraordinary in his flirtations, 

dress, and love-making, just now at Florence, and he 
is quite the ridicule of the place. I am informed Lord 

C[ ^]n. Lord W[ Jn's son, married in Edinburgh 

lately a Scotch heiress, a Miss M[ackenzi]e, of K[intail]e. 
I never heard of her before. The story goes that W[alter] 
S[cot]t gave her away. This appears a nUsaUiance for 
a future Marquis. After the wedding W[alter] S[cot]t 
set out immediately for Brussels, as he is engaged to 

write a poem on the battle of Waterloo. Miss W[ ]e 

made up her marriage on the road home, — not at Nice. I 
think she requires a great deal of dress and candle-light 
to set her ofi, and wonder at a man falling in love with her 
in a packet-boat. 

On my return home, I found several letters from 
England; among them a long melancholy one from 

[ \ giving me a detailed account of Lady B[ ]y*s 

death. The writer says, 

Digitized by 



I should be the most ungrateful of human beings, my dear 

[ ], if I were insensible to your kindness and afiEection, 

and did not feel sincerely obliged by the sympathy of your 
letter, which I have not been able to thank you for sooner. 
There are some misfortunes it is impossible to prepare the 
mind for ; and the one I am now sufiering under is of that 
class. A few days before the death of my dear friend she was 
considerably better, and I ventured to write a consolatory 

account to Lady E[ ], which she received a few hours 

after the event was over. The sufferings of that beloved 
angd were great, and it was forttmate they were not pro- 
tracted. At the moment of her decease she was not aware 
she was dying ; so she was spared some pangs of separation. 
A life of the most unexampled goodness had thoroughly 
prepared her for the awful moment. It was a gradual dedine, 

brought on by constant anxiety for the fate of Lord B[ ^]y's 

and her separation from him, and the constant tantalising 
state of hope and disappointment concerning his release, 
that she lived in for five years past, when the management 
of his affairs, and her duties to her children, brought her to 
this country. That monster Bonaparte has her life as much 
to answer for as those of any of the victims he has sacrificed. 
No lady was ever more adored by all who knew her, and 
nobody will ever be more lamented. The wretchedness of 
all her servants and dependents is a thing you can have no 
idea of. All her children must long and severely feel her 
loss ; for never was a more affectionate parent. Her brother 
and sisters worshipped her ; indeed it was impossible not 
to do so. To most people it woidd api>ear ridiculous if I 
were to put my loss in comparison with tiieirs ; but she was 
the idol I had set up for m5^self to worship, and every plan 
of my life, every castle in the air I ever formed, she was 
interwoven with it. I did not hve with her ; our destinies 
might be separated at any moment ; but the hope of meeting 
her, and talking over all that occmred in our parted time, 
would have enabled me to support the temporary separation. 
Now all this is over, and I feel mj^self a wretched being — a 
burden to myself and others. She was certainly a most 
perfect creature. Never, in my long and intimate acquaint- 
ance with her, did I see a look, or a word, or aiv idea, I could 
have wished different. Her inanners were enchanting; 

Digitized by 



which I oftea wondered at, for they were perfectly natural, 
and impossible to be imitated. My feelisag about her might, 
parhaps, be mfatMOiion ; but I thought her p^son as beautifid 
as her mind, and her coimtenance, from the variety of ex- 
pressicxL, the most fascinating I ever beheld. On Sunday 

last, just befcHre it was dark, I went to [ ^] Square, and 

went alone into her apartment. I had never seen a corpse 
before ; but I felt certain that any remai&s of one I had 
loved as I did her could at no moment inspire me with horror 
or taior. She had been so much altered by the dreadful 
degree of emaciation the last time I saw her, that it was only 
the sound of her voice brought her to my recollection ; so 
I did not expect to have her former self at all recalled to 
nae: theanefore, my astonishment was great when her face 
was uncovered, and I saw her to my eyes restored to her 
former looks ; and never did I admire ber beauty €o mudi, 
even when covered with dianoonds and dressed for a balL 
By looking at her in ptoiUe, (in which view she was beautiful,) 
her exces^ve emaciation was not discoveraUe; and the 
yeUowness of disease had, by candle-light, only the effect 
of giving her countenance the glow of Ufe. The worn look 
of caue and pain was quite gone, and not a wrinkle or mark 
was on her fair countenance. I cannot describe to )^u the 
enchantment that came o^^er me, and I sat watching besi<le 
that dear one all night, with my eyes fixed on her countenance 
— ^so exactly as I have seen her on a sofa asleep, and ev«ry 
moment almost imaginiiag she would open her eyes, and 
say something kind to me. Never in my happiest moments 
did a period appear so short. Every time I heard the watch- 
man I regretted another hour was past. I am a foolish 
coward, and have sat up often, or laid awake in the stillness 
of the night, and fancied all sorts of terrors. But then 
murderers might have entered the room ; — I should have 
looked on that placid, unmoved, heavenly countenance, 
and not have even started. Never shall I forget that night 
— never pass such another. Even in death die possessed the 
power she had over me during her life, of making me forget 
every care and annoyance, in the joy of being near her. 
When I left the sad scene, I could not look at her decidedly 
for the last time, and promised m3rself the melancholy pleasure 
of r^uming once more to i;aze alt her beloved remains. But 

Digitized by 



Lord L[ ], her son, would not allow any one to see her 

again. I Ik^ and bdieve I shall never forget her; but 
that her image will remain engraven on my mind as it is at 
present. The recollection of her kindness will form now my 
chief happiness; rendering me superior to disappointments, 
and to the want of it in others. She was too perfect for me 
ever to hope to meet her in another world, or that there I 
could expect to be remembered by her. I was too insig- 
nificant ever to have any other merit in her eyes than that 
of adoring her ; and that she never knew, for I was a little 
afraid of her. I thought her so superior to every human 
being, that I was rather shy with her. How one regrets 
past enjoyments when they are over for ever, and thinks 
one could have made more of them ! 

I prized every hour that went by 
Beyond all that pleased me before. 

But now they are past and I sigh, 

And grieve that I prised them no more. 

What a long letter I have written 1 but you, I know, 
will not laugh at this expose of my feelings. Do not mention 
what I have written. Some people would think my passing 
that ni^t as I have related, more wonderful than swimming 
acrosa the Channel, or encountering a tribe of banditti. So 
pray mention it to no one ; as I hate, en such a subject 
particularly, to be an object of speculation. If you should 

think it was an odd fancy to sit beside Lady B[ ^]y's 

corpse, I can only say it soothed my grief to do so. Mr. 

B[ ] said he would not have allowed Mrs. B[ ] to see 

that beloved sister when she was no more, for — ^what com- 
pensation do you think he named ? — not even for one thousand 
]X)unds I Although speaking on so sad a subject, the nature 
of the man betrajnng itself, even at euch a time, and <m such 
an occasion, almost made me smile. But I know he meant 
no disrespect ; for he revered and honoured her as sincerely as 
any of her family ; but money is, in his opinion, the greatest 
temptation that can be held out to a man. 

lidy L[ ]e told me I must have strong nerves to remain 

beride a dead person alone. How Uttie nerves have to do with 
it ! I was faised above nerves — ^above this mortal day — ^and 
waa, whilst in her presence, half in heaven with he4 &c. 

Digitized by 



' I am truly sorry for the poor person who wrote the 
above letter ; well knowing how she depended on Lady 

B[ ] for every happiness she enjoyed. Yet I must say 

I deprecate the system of one woman attaching herseU 
in so romantic a manner to another of her own sex, for it 
alwa}^ produces disappointment ; as generally one of the 
friends marries, and has other interests which lessen^ if 
they do not altogether divide, their maiden friendship. 

Every woman should make it her business, as a duty 
she owes herself, to find a husband ; for no other interest 
in life is ever stable, abiding, or sufficient to the happiness 
of a woman. I never yet knew or heard of female friend- 
ships answering completely to both parties, or enduring 
throughout life ; and in my reply to this melancholy 
effusion, I have endeavoured to turn the mind of the 
writer to the consideration of seeking some Intimate 
source of interest in life. But advice is a cheap drug, 
and a despised one. 

December gth. — ^A lapse occurs in my journal, which 
has been occasioned by a severe illness, from which I 
have scarcely yet recovered ; and now I have no memo- 
randum to make, except the melancholy intelligence of 
poor Princess Charlotte's death, which gave me unfeigned 
sorrow of an individual and selfish nature, as well as 
regret for the irreparable loss her country has sustained 
in the death of that kind-hearted princess. Every 
nation has appeared to sympathise with Britain, and 
to dread that this national calamity is the forerunner of 
many future woes. There is now no object of great in- 
terest to the English people, no one great rallying point, 
round which all parties are ready to join, and willing to 
make their opinions unite in concord. A greater public 
calamity coiQd not have occurred to us ; nor could it 
have happened at a more unfortunate moment. The 
instant I he^d the sad news, I thought of the poor 

Digitized by 



Princess of Wales, and felt grieved from my heart at this 
blow to her every chance of happiness and support. 
It was more as the future queen's mother that she had a 
strong claim on the English people, than from her own 
position ; and her daughter would, I feel convinced, have 
supported her to the uttermost ; for not only would 
the good motive of affection for the Princess of Wales 
have actuated her in doing so, but certainly also the 
Prince Regent had rendered himself an object of dislike 
to his daughter, and she would, from the haughty nature 
of her disposition, have felt satisfaction in upholding 
the person whom he persecuted and disliked. The 
Princess of Wales may well now feel careless of life ; 
and her conduct, poor woman ! as far as this world is 
concerned, will not further influence her fate ; for be it 
circumspect or the reverse, she is of no consequence. 
She has no bribe to offer ; and there are few who would 
undertake to wage war in her cause against her husband, 
who is all-powerful. I feel certain she wiU now become 
quite reckless in her behaviour, and I almost dread some 
tragical end for this unfortunate Princess. 
, I wrote to her, and offered her Royal Highness the 
assurance of my sincere sympathy in this her greatest 
afifliction. When sorrow visits our fellow-beings — even 
those most obnoxious to us, or the most guilty — ^the 
treachery, or unkindness, or neglect of their fellow- 
creatures should be stayed. The vengeance of man 
must give way to that of the Almighty, and the mean 
revenge of human beings sinks into contempt when such 
judgments are sent from on high. 

I have used the word judgments, which I repent of ; 
for no one has any right to decide what are judgments, 
and what are not. And after all, let aU that the world 
has accused the Princess of Wales of be true, this affliction 
may not be intended to chastise her ; so I retract the 
sense in which I made use pf the word. 

Digitized by 



Letters reach me every day, filled with nothing but 
accounts of, and lamentations about, this melancholy 
event. To-day I received an answer from the Princess 
of Wales. I am certain it was written with the deepest 
feehng, knowing, as I do, the meaning of her expressions. 
Others might have written more, and felt less, than she 
did in writing the following note. 

Villa Caprile, 

ths $rd of December, 18 17. 

I have not only to lament an ever-beloved child, but one 
most warmly attached friend, and the only one I have had 

in England 1 But she is only gone before [ ]. 

I have her not lossei — ^and I now trust we shall soon meet 
jn a much better world than the present one. 

For ever your truly sincere friend, 

C. P. 

I could have wept over this strangely-worded but 
heartfelt expression of the poor mother's grief, and I am 
anxious to receive tidings that she has not committed 
any rash act of despair — at which I should not be sur«- 
prised ; for the Princess is a woman of such violent 
feelings, and her situation is indeed now so desolate, 
that it would not be astonishing if, with her disposition, 
she were unable to endure this overwhelming calamity. 

In a letter from Florence, Lady [ ] says : 

Your mdancholy letter reached me yesterday, and with 
it various others, giving the same lamentable intelligence. 
Such a blow England has scarcely ever received. The nation 
may well droop its head. God knows if it will ever raise it 
again 1 I fdt this awful death in a most heartfelt manner, 
and with something of intimate and tender sorrow, which 
Princess Charlotte's uniform kindness to me necessarily in- 
spired. It will be a long time ere I recover from the shock, 
and I can never forget the deep impression it has made upon 
my mind. There arefsome things we cannot forget. The 
great change this tremendous dispensation will make in 
Britain, is one that involves sitch a complicated train of 

Digitized by 



events, and is so ^Icomdy portentous, that one shudders 
at the consequences. But this is not a subject to enter upon 
fully by letter. You know my feelings, and I know your 
manner of thinking. Of course there is an end to all our 
participation in the f^es given at this court on the marriage 
of the Grand Duke's son. On account of not being very 
well, I had not gone on Thursday night to a bail given by 
the nobles, and I feel rather glad I did not ; for although 
these things, in fact, make no real difEerenoe in our feelings, 
it might have been imagined I had already heard the tidings, 
since it was 'vrtiispered yesterday, that the event of the Prin- 
cess's death was known before to some who chose to divert 
themselves. Perhaps this is not so ; and it matters little 
whether ill-natured busy-bodies ore at work to spite their 
neighbour or not just now, in such trivial matters, when a 
whole kingdom is plunged into mourning. 

In a letter from England, I am told the R^ent is but 
little afEected. I do not believe he k>ved the departed Princess 
as he ought to have done ; but I never can think a faUier 
can fed otherwise than as I feel, when a young and innocent 
child is taken away from him ; and I make no doubt all 
petty wrongs knd ancient feelings of animosity are forgotten 
now by him when mourning for his daughter. 

Believe me, &c. 

P. S. Amongst the innumerable verses written on this 
melancholy occasion, it strikes me that those I send yon are 
the most remarkable, as being supposed to be addressed by 
the dying mother to her deceived child. 


Farewell to thee, child — silent fruit of my anguish, 
Bright hope ere thy birth — ^now my sorrow when past : 
May angels receive thee, and waft, as I languish. 
The kisses for thee on my pillow impressed 

I must weep for thee. Babe — nor shall my single sorrow 
In fast-falling currents thy obsequies lave. 
For o'er thy hapless fate, ere the night of to-morrow. 
The sorrow of millions shall stream on thy grave. 

Digitized by 



Had a mother's exulting alone been inwoven 
In thy destiny grand, then my sorrows were mute ; 
But the root of the cedar majestic is cloven, 
And nations confounded shall mourn for the fruit. 

I saw the long vista of bliss and of glory. 
An empire convuls'd by thy virtue upheld 1 
But a horror prophetic now darkens the story. 
Awful clouds stop the lighi—or too much is reveal' d. 

Resign'd for myself — was I selfish, still grateful 
In a lot for which thousands ambitious have sighed ; 
But to me the dominion of worlds would be hateful 
Had I selfishly lov'd, or if selfishly died. 

But be still my lament — ^lovely Babe, soon I join thee. 
The big-swelling bosom shall heave o'er us both ; 
Death has barbed his dart a few hours to purloin thee. 
And, in leaving me last, has exhausted his wrath. 

Then be merciful. Death, from my anguish release me, 
For fresh joys O exchange my heart-rending*farewell ; 
So my infant extends his fond arms to receive me. 
Whilst his smiles from my bosom all darkness dispel. 

I come to thee. Child, now in glory resplendent. 
Which leaves not a grief for thy destiny lost, 
O aid and receive me, ye angels attendant, 
O shorten my pangs as ye beckon my ghost. 

November loth, 1817. — ^To the original of these verses 
was appended the following letter : 

My dear [ ], — I have done myself the pleasure of 

enclosing the lines you appeared to approve. I was not 
allowed the liberty of giving a copy, but my acquaintance 
with the author's mind is such that I felt no hesitation in 
offering them, being assured he would have been highly 
gratified by your acceptance of them. They will not bear 
tiie severe eye of criticism, but to a feeling heart they must 
be touching. I conceive they may be improved by cpm- 

Digitized by 



pression, but they were written on the spur of the moment, 
so I send them as I received them, &c. 

I went to Lady [ ]'s the day that the news reached 

Rome, and I found there congregated all the English 
residing at this place, who had come to tell and to hear 
whatever they had heard from England on the sad 
occasion. Some maintained that the Regent had not 
evinced any grief. Impossible ! But one circumstance 
I believe to be true, from the quarter from which it came ; 
it is, that no official notice of "the event was forwarded to 
the Princess of Wales, and that she learnt it through the 
medium of a conmion newspaper ! Truly one's heart 
revolts at the idea of a mother being so treated — not to 
mention a princess ; for in such a case as this, all remem- 
brance of the observances of etiquette sink into insigni- 
ficance, compared with the want of common humanity 
of feeling, shown in this respect for so near a relative of 
the departed Princess. But this act of cruel negligence 
accords with the treatment almost invariably shown 
towards the Princess of Wales : for certainly, however 
much she may have been in the wrong, the Prince is 
fully as much to blame as she is ; and however greatly 
the Princess of Wales deserves censure, she deserves fully 
as much pity. She has a great claim on the English 
nation's kindness and forbearance, and I only wish 
to heaven she had never forsaken the shelter of that 

But partially as this cause has been spoken and written 
of in the present day by eye-witnesses, future historians 
will be more partial still ; and in future ages the faults 
and follies of the Prince and the Princess of Wales will 
be exaggerated or diminished, until there wiU be no 
truth told of either party. All history is false, and it 
is difficult to avoid its being so ; for even those who 
dwell perpetually at courts are deceived. No one who 
has not lived in such a sphere can have an idea of the 

Digitized by 



duplicity and double dealings which are carried on by 
all countries and all parties. 

To return to the actual news of the day : there are 
whispered (and I think totally false) rumours afloat, 
of the late Princess Charlotte having been neglected 
during her confinement ; and all sorts of marvellous 
stories are spread, which I wonder at any person of 
conunon sense listening to for a moment. It is strange 
how eagerly people always receive marvellous histories 
on any subject. But in such a case as this they should 
not be allowed to disseminate such idle gossip, which, 
a the lowest orders of people were to become acquainted 
with, might be a pretext for them to cause some serious 
disturbance. Another, and, I fear, a more true report 
is afloat, namely, that the Princess of Wales is watched 
by mean and paid hirelings, who will not scruple to tell 
lies, so long as they receive a sufficient price to tempt 
them to sell this poor woman. I do not Imow one of her 
Royal Highness's attendants, even by name ; so I have 
ventured again to trouble her with a letter of inquiry 
about her health, which I have requested her to employ 
any person to answer she thinks fit to appoint, as I am 
truly anxious to hear she has not suffered in health from 
her late bereavement. I should hope and beheve this 
iliquiry will not offend, as it is truly and kindly meant. 
But she is a strange person, and in general, on other 
occasions of supposed sorrow to her, she has been offended 
at expressions of condolence ; not liking it to be imagined 
that any grief could affect her strength, either of 
body or mind. I have alwa}^ regarded that feeling as a 
foolish boast, and on the present occasion I think even 
she will not be ashamed to confess that she is in deep 

The Regent did not attend his daughter's funeral. 
I am told it was not etiquette for him to do so ; but 1 
own my feelings would have inclined me, on so unconunon 

Digitized by 



an occasion of public sorrow, as well as from the private 
affiction of a parent at the loss of a child, to waive the 
usages of ceremony, and to have seen her laid in the 
grave. Her husband is very miserable, and I believe his 
grief to be sincere, as much for his yoimg and pretty bride, 
as for the loss of his future queen. It always struck me 
that Princess Charlotte's personal advantages were not 
so highly esteemed as they deserved to be ; for certainly 
her figmre and deportment were truly beautiful ; her 
limbs all faultless, and her general appearance very 
dignified and royal looking. But everything and every 
person that concerned the Princess of Wales seems 
destined to have been despised, and to meet with an 
unkindly fate. In her own person (I speak of the time 
of her youth) her face and figure were both very pleasing, 
her features deUcate and regular, and it was strange they 
did not then, at least, win the admiration of the Prince ; 
for he was a great judge on female charms. Truly, 
when one reflects on the manner in which she was treated 
from the first moment of her arrival in England, one feels 
inclined to be very lenient to all her subsequent faults 
and follies. If we only consider her as a young, pretty, 
and shghted bride in private Hfe, we must pity her, 
when she found herself so contemptuously treated by 
her lord. That was the portion of her hfe in which the 
Princess of Wales was a real heroine, and that bitter 
portion of her existence alone gives her a strong right to 
national sympathy, and ought to preserve for her in 
future generations a kindly feeling of compassion, and 
I feel sure it will do so. 

December 10th. — I received the following strange reply 
to-day from the Princess of Wales. 

Thank you a thousand times, my dear [ 1, your kind 

inquiries after my health, which has suffered as little as I 

Digitized by 



could expect from my late misfortune. I camiot at dis 
moment inform you where I shall go to ; my plan depends 
on letters from England, about dat vile money, who do 
always annoy me. As to my household, I hear people are 
meddling wid it, and sajdng it is improper. In de first 
place what would they have me do ? All de fine English folk 
leave me. I not send them away, though, by-the-bye, some 
of dem not behave as civil as I could like. No matter — I 
wud have had patience wid them, but dey choose to go, so 
I not prevent them ; but I must have some one to attend 
me, and I make my choice of some very agreeable persons, 
in every way fit to be my attendants ; though de jealous 

English beggars, such as Miss[ ], and one or two more of 

or our acquaintance, dear, wud have liked to have had the 
situation which La Comtesse Oldi now fills, to her and my 
great satisfaction. Her brother* also is a very intelligent 
and gentlemanlike person. Dey are of a decayed noble- 
man's family, much better bom and bred than WiUiam 

B[ -]1. But I know people are very ill-natured, and choose 

to abuse me for the choice I have made in my household. 
No matter, I not care — from henceforth I will do just as I 
please, that I will. Since de English neither give me de 
great honour of being a Princesse de Galle, I will be Caroline 
— a happy, merry soul ; but, simplemetU, what do you tink, 

my dear [ ] ? just before I and Lady [ ] parted, I 

hope never to meet again, I gave her a very pretty cast of 
an antique. I should have been proud of it in my room. 
Well, a day or two after she broke it, purposely I know, and 
had de impudence to come and say to me, ** Oh ! ma'am, 
dat figure your Royal Highness bought for bronze is only 

plaster " ; to which I reply, '* I knew that. Lady [ \ very 

weU, when I gave it to you. Dat is so like de English people ; 
dey alwas^s ask, when one make them a souvenir, how much 
is cost ? how much is worth ? You are a true English, my 

dear Lady [ ], there can be no mistake." 

She laughed, but I saw she looked ashamed of herself. I 
cannot say I regret any one of my old household. I have been 
disappointed in dem all, and am much happier now I have no 

longer d^s espions about me, such as Lady A[ ] H[ ], 

watching me into every place where it is possible for a human 

* Bartolomeo Bergami. 

Digitized by 



being to set foot. I must conclude, my dear [ ], wishing 

you weU, and remain ever your sincere fnend, 

P.S. When you have any amusing news from England, 
I should like to hear it if you will favour me wid some. 

Truly, did I not know the Princess of Wales, I should 
be tempted to believe this letter was a forgery. It is 
such a strange manner of writing inunediately after her 
poor daughter's decease] which, not to mention the 
affection I beheve she entertained for the Princess Char- 
lotte as her child, selfish interest must have made her 
know was the greatest loss she can have sustained, and 
one she never can recover. Others, not acquainted 
with the Princess, on reading the foregoing letter, would 
judge her as an unfeeling and light-minded person. But 
I know that often, when she affects the greatest jocularity 
and indifference to afSiction, her heart is not the less 
sore ; and it is only a wish to forget her misery that makes 
her talk and write in such a strain as the foregoing. It is 
impossible not to laugh at her encomixuns on her present 
household, and her observations on her former one. 
Yet at the same time I feel sincere regret for her wilful 
blindness to her impending ruin, and the infatuation she 
has taken for such disreputable peiople as the foreigners 
she has now in her service. But it would be worse than 
useless for me to incur her displeasure by attempting to 
give her any advice. So God keep her, and preserve her 
from coming to any fearful end ! is all that her best 
friends can say. 

I received a letter from Lady [ ], who is at Como 

just now, and mentions the Princess. 

The locale, [my correspondent sa5^,] of this place is ex- 
quisitely beautiful ; but the walks are confined, and I think 
one becomes tired of perpetually being on the water, which 
is the chief amusement. Lady G. Heathcote passed by the 
other day on her way to England ; but only for a short visit. 

Digitized by 



Her beauty is almost at an end. " Woe is me I " how woon 
bright things come to confusion I 

The weather at Como changes every hour ; and yesterday 
we were visited by a most violent thunder-storm, after which 
it rained in such torrents which served as a specimen of the 
deluge. I.happened to be on the lake at the time, and not- 
withstandmg the boatman's assurance of ** non c'S pericolo, 
nan abbia paura " — I was considerably frightened. I believe 
myself a heroine, too, and if I had been in a Thames wherry, 
with English boatmen, I should not have been afraid. How- 
ever, I was quitU pour la peur, and they tell me there are 
never any accidents on the lake, which I try to beUeve. 

I went the other day to Pliniani, the house your favourite, 
Pliny the Younger, lived in — not exactly the house, but the 
spot, and which you may read the description of in his epistle. 
It is very beautiful, but I think the lake and its banks ia 

tristcsse mime. Lady S[ ], strange to say, Ukes the life 

she is leading, playing with flowers in the garden, and school-* 
ing and scolding her children. I am not amused, but I am 
not bored. The Comte and Comtesse, to whom the house we 
inhabit belongs, live in the gardener's house, on the top of a 
rock. She is a Parisian by birth, and we are rather growing 
friends. They are great grandees by their own account ; 
but he lost eJl his fortune by the fsolure of a bank. The 
Comte talks without ceasing, and knows everything. They 
were great friends of Prince Eugene's and the ancient rdgime. 
The Comtesse has travelled all over the world, and is also 
communicative and amusing. She has a library of novels — 
Uterally ; so that I wonder she has not, by filling her head 
with sudi a mass of trash, committed half a dozen murders 
and run away from her husband at least as many times, to 
make herself a heroine ;— and, what is more, she cannot be 
scrupulous in the selection of tiiese novels, from the specimen 
of some she has lent me. Yet none of this idle readixig seems 
to have injured her mind or manners; she speaks French 
beautifully, has very good manners, and is, I am told, very 

I related to you the trouble I had taken in going over 
th6 Palauo Litta, and visiting the Duchessa, out of a senti* 
ment connected with former days. Well, I f oimd the Countess 
Litta was an intimate friend of this Comtesse, our landlady ; 

Digitized by 



so I made many inquiries about my friend, Madame de Litta, 

whose name was Emilie. But Comtesse [ Ys friend was 

called Barbe de Litta : so there we came to an explanation ; 
— my Madame de litta, who had the modt beautiful eyes in 
the world, and was in love a hundred years ago very foolishly 
with all the young Englishmen, was La Marchesa Emilie de 
Litta, wife to a brother of the present Duke, and has been 
dead eight years, and her husband likewise. All that is left 
of her is- a son, whom I passed in a room at the Palazzo. I 
wish I had looked at him. He is heir to the present Duke, 
who has no children. My poor friend, Emilfe, was never 
allowed to Uve in the palace I went to see, as the Duke did 
not approve of the acts of folly she was constantly com- 
mitting. She was also belle sour to the man you saw, who 
was chamberlain to the Archduke. Here is a distinct account 
of the family, and must end our anxieties about them. 

I have not heard a word from Milan, or from the idle 

M[ ]s, since I left them. He and his love, Lady E[ ]th 

wait the return of W[ ]. There are things much talked 

of here — I mean by my foreign allies — ^much more than they 
could b€ an}nvhere else, because the person who excites all 
this indignation is a native of this place, and has always lived 
in situaiions on this lake, &c. The change of his circum- 
stances is much remarked. I am totally ignorant and dis 
believing ; but can you conceive ans^thing so foolish as for 
the Princess to settle here ? I cannot write aU I hear ; 
people teU me letters are not safe, and are opened at the 
poUce ofGices ; but I cannot believe it. 

Since writing the preceding part of this letter, I have seen 
the Princess of Wales. To my infinite surprise, her Royal 
Highness wrote, and desired me to wait upon her yesterday, 
which I did accordingly, and found her looking very well, 
but dressed in the oddest mourning I ever saw; a white 
gown, with bright lilac ribbons in a black crape cap I She 
was gracious in her manner to me, and spoke friendly of Lady 

[ ], which I was glad to hear, as by all accounts she was 

much displeased with her for leaving her service. But if 
she was angry, her wrath is at an end. I have often observed 
with admiration that the Princess never retains any revenge 
or unkind feelings long, even towards those who most deeply 
wrong her. She soon forgives what she considers slights or 

Digitized by 



treachery towards her ; which is a noble trait, and a rare one, 
and which ought alwa)^ to be mentioned to her honour. She 
invited me to dinner to-day ; and when I have been, I will tell 
you all I have seen, feeling certain you will not betray me. 

I dined accordingly last evening with her Royal Highness. 
The ComUsse Oldi sat at table, but her brother did not. The 
Princess talked sensibly, and cautiously, I should say, and 
appeared in very calm spirits. I watched the attendants 
dc^y, and could not discover any want of proper respect 
in their manners, &c., towards her. Perhaps they were on 
their guard before a stranger; but certainly, as far as I 
could see, they were as weU-behaved as possible. The 
Comtesse Oldi seems a stupid silent woman. Her 
appearance is not particular in any way. The Princess's 
apartments are comfortable, and altogether I was agreeably 
disappointed ; for I own, from all I had heard, I expected 
to find things very different from what I did. The Princess 
avoided speddng of England or the English people, and only 
once alluded to the Princess Charlotte's death, by pointing 
to the lilac bows of her gown, and saying, " What an ugly 
thing mourning is I " I could scarcely help laughing, and 
asking whether that colour was considered as such. But I 
thought it best not to make any impertinent remarks ; and 
my visit passed ofE pleasantly and quietly, but certainly not 
so amusingly as I have generally found the time to do in her 
Royal Highness's society. I hope the respectable appearance 
of her house and mode of life is uniformly such as I witnessed ; 
and I am tempted to beUeve shameful and ill-natured lies 
are invented against her. Yet, I will own, I can scarcely 
think she is always satisfied to lead so monotonous a life as 
it would appear she does. She showed me her villa, and 
appeared proud of its beauty and comfort, which is certainly 
very great. The only circumstance which took from my 
pleasure in this dinner, was the fear that all the decorum!; I 
witnessed might not be habitual, but only put on for the 
occasion. However, I have no right to suppose so, and would 
fain not ; so I beg of you to give me up as authority ; and 
having been an eye-witness, I am ready to testify that I saw 
nothing that was not strictly proper in the Princess's house- 
hold when I visited her Ro}^ Highness. Adieu for to-day. 

BeHeve me, &c. 

Digitized by 



I took this letter to Lady [ ], and read her the part 

concerning the Princess ; but she h not favourably in- 
clined to her, and she only said, *^ Ah, she is sly enough. 
She was capable of sending for your fnend, and showing 
off propriety before her, in order that she might talk 
of it to others." 

I did not attempt to defend the Princess to Lady 

[ ], for she is a bigoted person, and partial to the 

Prince, so I knew it was useless to do so. 

In talking of Lord [Abercorji, Lady [ ] told me 

some curious circumstances about his wife. Lady A. C.[sfc 
— C. A.]. In the first instance,Lord [Abercom] would not 
even marry her tmtil she was ennobled ; * and he went to 
the King, and obtained for her a title, after which he made 
her his wife. For a time, they lived well together ; but 
she soon fell in love with Sir J. C[ople]y, and made known 
her resolution to Lord [Abercom], her husband, to run 
off with her lover. The former behaved most nobly to 
her, and said if she would promise never to see Sir J. 
C[opley] again, he would forgive her what she had done, 
and save her from public disgrace. But this offer she 
refused. She told Lord [Abercom] that she had wronged 
him to the utmost — ^that she loved Sir [Joseph] pas- 
sionately, and that she would elope with him. Lord 
[Abercom] then replied, " So be it " ; and he promised 
to arrange matters for her departure. But this also she 
rejected, and sent to the neighbouring village to order 
post-horses ; and so, in a common hack chaise, she left 
her great and splendid home, for the love of a man who 
did not repay her suffidently for the sacrifice. Lord 
[Abercom] was much distressed ; but he was not a person 
to make himself long miserable about anything ; and, 

* James, ist Marquis of Abercom, married, secondly, 1792, hisconsin 
Cecil, daughter of Hon. George Hamilton. Canon of Windsor. For her, 
in 1789, he obtained grant of precedency of an earl's daughter. The 
marriage was dissolved in 1799, and she remarried in the same year 
Sir Joseph Copley of Sprotborough, co. York, Bart. 

Digitized by 



dit&c obtaining a divorce, he married again. ''Some 

years ago," said Lady [-- — ], " I was at a ball at [ ] ; 

I had been dancing, and sat down beside a lady whom 
I considered a stranger to me, when suddenly she accosted 
me. I remembered the soimd of her voice instantly, 
and accosted her by her former name of Lady [Abercom], 

but corrected myself quickly, and said, ' O Lady [ ], 

I am very happy to meet you again/ We conversed 
together for some time ; and she invited me to go and 
see her, which I did. At our next interview, she told me 
bow her life had been passed since we last met. ' I have 
suffered much,' said she ; ^ but the worst is past now.' 
And she related to me how she could not resist an impulse 
she had when one evening passing near [- — ] to look in 
at the window of the house, and see her children and 
Lord [Abercom], who were assembled there. It was a 
sad strange pleasure, but it was a pleasure. I gathered 

from what my poor friend. Lady [ -] said, that the 

sacrifice she had made to attain happiness had failed ; 
tor HiQ object of her love was not all that she had hoped 
to find him. I soon left [-— ]»** continued Lady [—^-3, 
^^ and I never saw her again, or heard of her till alter her 
deaths when I learnt that she had requested h^ first 
husband, Lord [Abercom], to go and see her ; and she 
took leave of him for the last time." It must have been 
a most painful interview, I should suppose, and I almost 
wonder at any person imposing such a trial upon them* 
selves ; but it proved that she returned to her first 
attachment, and, that, — though not the most faithful 
husband in the world, was a better and a kinder man 
than the object of her unhappy passion. 

Lord [Abercom] was a strange being. Ttie only piece 
of sentiment I ever knew him possessed of was evinced 
in the following anecdote, which a friend of his told me. 

There was a tree at his place, [ ], to which was attached 

some remembrances of a mistress whom he had loved ; 

Digitized by 



and when she died. Lord [Abercom] caused it to be cat 
down, and the branches and trunk burnt. 

On my return home I found a letter from Sir William 
Gell ; his letters are always welcome. 

My dear [ ^],— I still make inquiries about your man, 

though I know that all I shall get by it will be yoiu* abomi- 
nation, if anything happens to you on your journey. Here 
follows what I copy from the Duchess of Devonsdiire, to 
whom I sent for M. La Croix's character : — " I always heard 
Monsieur de Livarot speak with great regard of La Croix, 
who lived with him for six years. 

I can inform you he is a powdered, respectable, French- 
looking, middle-aged man, and says he knows all about not 
letting you be cheated. He has been in England twenty 
years, lived with the Marquis de Livarot, who died one day, 
and ' do speak now leetel English for de make de understand- 
no much,' " I retire rather in disgust, recommending you, 
who don't want advice, to let me give you a letter to my 
friend [ ]. 

Since the removal of all our worthy friends from the court 
of Queen Mob, I hear very little royal news ; and what is 
wafted to my ear by the rude breath of scandal does not 
please me much. I am told "we" are very happy, living 
at Como, in one ** most beautifullest " Uttie house ** that ever 
was seen, enjojong the society of a select few." The happy 
man increases in favoiu: daily, and Mrs. Thompson declares 
she is in paradise. I am happy she is pleased ; but I live 
in fear of hearing of the fall of Eve ; and then the Regent 
win, with his sword, chase her for ever from English groimd. 
At present, '^ we " completely despise Englrad, a^d hate all 
its inhabitants ; but we are apt to change our opinions, and 
I fancy when good King George the Third walks off, "we" 
shall choose to go and ^ow ourselves as " Queen " ; and then 
if our wdl-bdoved husband can raise any objections to our 
doing so, the will will not be wanting — so we had better take 
care — ^which, by all accounts, we are not doing just now* 

Oh I how happy a certain personage would be with the 
heiress apparent dead, and Mrs. Thompson's head €bopp^ 
off for high treason ! * There would not be so happy a 

♦ When the death of Napoleon was annonnced to George IV. untar 

Digitized by 



mortal on the face of the earth. I also heard '' we " are engaged 
in painting His picture. Now as you may not be aware who 
the His is, be it known to all here present, it is the Caunte 
Alexander Hector Von Der 0th, a prince in disguise ; and his 
sister, the Comtesse AusterUtz, is a Venus, and a Madame 
de Sevign^ ; so that " our " letters are all written for us in 
the most perfect style ; and "a Catalani," and every thing 
else that is perfect, except " Joan of Arc," which title is still 
held sacred to Lady Anne Hamilton. The Count is an 
Apollo — 9l Julius Casar — ^Adonis — a. Grammont — ^and what 
not. I wish you and I could find such charming folks to 
live with. It is very strange that people of such taste and 
discernment have never been able to discover such paragons 
of perfection. We are most unfortunate. 

When "we" were at C[ ], a person who had a side- 
saddle sent Mrs. Thompson one to ride upon ; but we pre- 
ferred cross-leg fashion, and wore hessian boots and a sabre ! 
What would I not have given to see the show I We always 
miss what is best worth seeing in this life. 

My dear [ ], if ever you and I meet again this side 

the Stjrx, you will be astonished and delighted with the im- 
provement in my beauty. Gad! I grow handsomer every 
day, and each fit of the gout adds new grace and agiUty to 
my Umbs ; and my locks are profuse, and of a most glitter- 
ing hue ; they outshine the finest set of diamonds you ever 
saw. No matter, I am always faithfully yours to command 
under all changes of fortune, time, and any other trans- 
migration, known, or unknown. So no more at present, 
from your devoted 


Pray remember me to the eldest daughter and heiress of 

December iith. — I received a letter from [ ], who 

is still in Ireland. He says, 

I went the other day to see the famous Lake of Killamey. 
I slept at Mill Street, a poor Uttle hamlet. The inn was so 
full, I was put into a parlour with an'.Irish gintleman, who 

the phrase, " Your Majesty's greatest enemy is dead/' the King, 
thinlring it was his wife, replied* " Is she, by God I " 

Digitized by 



From an eiigrattmg 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 



bad aU the easy assuraJdce of his countrymen. What amused 
me, was his ignorance of the roads and places round which 
he had apparently been bom and bred, and his perfect know- 
ledge and lively account of the minutest gesture of the last 
criminal who was hung at Tralee. So much did he talk on 
the subject, that I suspected him of being the hangman of 
the place. On approaching Killamey, the mountains assume 
a very magnificent aspect; their tops are more pointed, 
their sides more rugged, and, on the whole, they are more 
picturesque, than Scottish mountains. An ancient Castle 
of the O'Donoghues (Kings of Ireland) stands in gloomy 
soUtary grandeur at the base of the first chain. The little 
town of Killamey is neat and pretty, aad one of the approaches 
throu^ Lord Kenmure's park is very pleasing. Marble of 
a coarse Idnd is so plentiful, that the flags of the pavement 
are of a grayish Idnd— coarse, but still it is marble. As 
usual the day was rainy. It is said no party of pleasure was 
ever made to go to Killamey, that it did not rain. How- 
ever, I still persisted in seeing the object of my excursion. 

I paid a visit to Rock Forest, Sir James C[ Ys place, 

where there is a spacious house, and the inhabitants the 
worthiest of human beings. Sir James distributes the milk 
of human kindness to the whole parish. Their eldest daughter 
was on the eve of marriage with an amiable young man, 

Mr. La T[ ], of good family and fortune. The next day 

I proceeded on my expedition. We passed ** Spencer's 
Classic Vale," and saw part of his family estate, which looked 
forlom and neglected. I-stopped at Clifford Cottage, a lovely 
spot, belonging to a Mr. Martin, a clever but whimsical man, 
who has erected a mausoleum in his shrubbery for his oum 
heart after his decease, surrounded by yews and cj^resses. 
It stands on a pedestal, with Latin inscriptions, surmounting 
which is the i$m, which is to receive the embalmed deposit ; 
and a curse is entailed on the profane hand that dares to 
remove it. " My heart rests here," is the only one of the 
iiiscriptions I recollect. In other respects Mr. Martin is a 
sensible man, and an elegant scholar; but this eccentric 
fancy causes him to be laughed at all over the coimty. — ^I 

stopped also at C[ "] House, a fine seat of Lord Innismore, 

but possessed by his son aad his family. The Hon. Mr. 
Hare, and Mrs. Hare, an interesting and lady-like lookiof 


Digitized by 



woman, received me with polite kindness from Lord [ ]'s 

introduction ; and I had the pleasure of seeing a collection 
of pictures, reckoned the finest in Ireland. — ^Arrived at last 
at my destination, I can only say that I was not disappointed 
in the beauty of the famous lake, which IJ[expected to have 
been ; for when one has heard so much in favour of a place 
or person, we are apt to feel disappointed in our expectations 
when beholding the reality. — ^The visit of the viceroy is the 
event to which all the people are looking forward with im- 
patience ; but I own I do not. He, it is said, drinks oceans 
of wine, and she is fond of regal pomp. All is in preparation 
for their arrival, and I am invited to dine on the i8th at 
the bishop's, and on the 19th on board the admiral's ship ; 
so that both sea and land are in a commotion. I shall 
certainly not go to the sea party. Ceremony is bad enough 
on land, but on board of ship it must be ten times worse. 
Besides, the chance of being sick in the ro3ral presence is an 
awful thought. I must release you from this dull letter, 
and assure you that I am yours, &c. 

Sir [ ] called upon me, and we had a long conversa- 
tion on a variety of subjects. He has heard from England 
that the Regent is not very partial to Prince Leopold ; 
and that now the Princess is dead, he does not scruple to 
evince his contempt for him. " The Regent is in high 

spirits,*' said Sir [ ], " as we expected he would be. 

He can now with truth say, 

I am monarch of all I survey. 
My right there is none to dispute ; 

which suits his taste precisely." 

I asked Sir [ ] what he thought of Prince Leopold. 

He said, " I consider him a dull harmless kind of person, 
who would have made a very peaceable king-consort, 
and suited his wife, who would not have endured any 
assumption of power in her husband, or interference with 
her sovereign will. No one could have been so well 
calculated to submit to that^situation as a petty German 
prince, who felt that he had no right to give himself airs. 

Digitized by 



But the princess would never have submitted to any 
interference on his part, or even control. The last time 

I was at Claremont," continued Sir [ ], " I remember 

a trifling circumstance which showed me how the land lay 
in that quarter. The Prince advised Princess Charlotte 
to retire, as it was growing late ; but she did not choose 
to do so, and remained talking to several persons in the 
dide ; so that the prince was obliged to sit down again, 
and await her pleasiure.'' 

I received a letter to-day from Miss [ ], in which 

there are some passages of such melancholy beauty, that 
I transcribe them into my diary. 

I quite agree with you in thinking it a heavy sorrow when 
a wife and mother parts from her own and her children's 
protector. I never think of conjugal duties and happiness 
without recollecting some lines (an epitaph) in Croydon 
churchyard. They please me so much, I must give them 
to you, as far as my memory serves me. They are as follows : — 

They were so one, it never could be said 

Which of them rul'd, and which of them obe/d : ;, 

He rul'd, because her wish was to obey, * 

And she, by obejnng, rul'd as well as he. 

There ne'er was known betwixt them a dispute. 

Save which the other's will should execute. 

I am sure you will smile at us old maids writing so much 
of conjugal happiness; but once in my Ufe it was a sweet 
subject ; and my favourite poet (Milton) made me think it 

still more beautiful. In trutii, dear [ "], I believe in early 

life it is woman's end and aim, and perhaps does not cease 
to be so until sorrowful disappointment tdls her that the 
fondly-cherished hope, nursed for years, may in an instant 
be blighted, and the confiding heart thrown back on itself to 
feel aU its bitterness. But on what forbidden ground is my 
pen wandering ? 

Another letter of a very different class arrived later in 
the day, to dissipate the melancholy impression which 

Digitized by 



poor Miss [ ]'s letter made on my mind. The following 

I received was from the Princess of Wales. 

My dear [ ],— The portfolio of Sir [ ] will be 

delivered safely intoj:your hands next week, through the 
medium of Lord Glenbervie. He is since yesterday with us. 
On Sunday I set out for an excursion about the country. 
If I have any adventures of murder, robbery, or violence, to 
meet with, you shall be the first informed of it. Willy is, 
thank God, quite recovered. 

J never doubted, 4ear f ], that, wherever you are, you 

have the capacity of ma]dng yourself comfortable, and 
others about you tiie same. But I will be frank wid you. I 
detest Rome. It is the burial place of departed grandeur ; 
it is like one vast sepulchre ; and though there are few ahve 
I like to hve wid, I prefer them to being wid de dead. There 
is no amusement to be had at Rome. It is very well to see 
it once, like a raree show ; but never twice. Oh I it made 
me so melancholy 1 I shall die of de blue devils, as^you 
English call it. It is certainly de duUest place ever was made. 
Excuse me for sa3ang all dese evil thixigs when you sure at 
Rome. I am tnily glad to he^r of you happy anywhere. I 
never hear ssiytlmg from Mr. Arbuthnot, or any English 
person ; they have all cut me ; so be it. I say, Amen. 

The only news I am able to inform you of is, that Princess 

] has been graced with a present from the Duke of [ ], 

which consists in an eagle, which is the entertaini^ent of the 
whole palace ; and no doubt a beautiful poem, equal to that 
of Verd Verd will be published. I was much amused at 
being told my Lord Essex vas going to bring my cause before 
de House of Lords, to be seconded by my LcMrd Oxford ! I 
What a fine hodge-podge dese two would make of my aSairs 1 
and what an idea of anybody's that either of dem would 

bum their fingers for me I As to Lord 0[ ], he has he&k 

very treacherous to me; — no matter. My dear [ j, I 

have broken my chains, and I will not be a state prisoner 
again in a hurry if I can help it, but wander about, and 
divert myself — now here — now there. I wish my letter 
could ofieriyou some amusement; but I. am completely 
duUified— «illy as the geese ^o defended ttie Capitol with 
their intolerable talk ; though they had some merit» which 

Digitized by 



I tei ftlrsid I am not entitled tb. Iff defaidiiig and being upon 
gaard on any subject or object. I must conclude ^th tbis 
wise speech, as dinner is on table. 

Yours sincerely attached, 


I went to Lady [ ] in the evening, who had got up 

some private theatrical representations, which are cer- 
tainly always alnlusing^ even if the actors are very second 
rate, because there is so much contention and rivalry 
amongst the performers, and all their different natures 
come out in the choice they make of their parts ; and 
altogether it produces a great deal of fun and merriment. 
I cannot say the ladies and gentlemen who performed 
" The Rivals " were first-rate actors and actresses ; but 

the principal amusement was, that Lady [ ] was 

so much more applauded than Lady [ ], that the 

latter was considerably annoyed, and cried with vexation. 
The afiair was dull enough ; and I left the theatre afi 
soon as I could without rudeness 

December 12th. — I called upon Lady [-^ — ], who had 
heard, in letters from England, that the old Queen is 
exceedingly unwell ; but her death WoUld nlake so little 
change, and affect so few people in any way^ that the 
inteUigence does not create much alarm. Certainly, as 
a qmen^ there is no fault to be found with the donsort 
of the good King George the Third. Her court is (and 
justly so) famous for its propriety ; and her manners 
are a model of rojral grace and dignity; yet I should 
not say she is beloved, though she has bera Queen for 
more than half a century, or that her death would be 
much regretted. Her conduct to the Princess of Wales 
has certainly always been very cold, to say the least of 
it< She never was partial to the Princess^ aiid hasfft 
blind idolatry to the Regent, which has made her always 
cdncUr in his views regarditig his wife. 

Digitized by 



In speaking of the D[ouglases], Lady [ ] said, she 

believed it was only Sir J[ohn] who had ever offered 
to wrong the Princess of Wales, and that his wife was 
frightened into doing so ; but that she had of herself no 
evil intentions respecting her royal mistress. Lady 

[ ] once heard that, many years ago. Lady D[oiiglas] 

was sent for by the Prince Regent to Carlton House, 
and when shown into his presence, and that of several 
of his favourite attendants, &c., she was commanded, 
under pain of his Rojral Highness's everlasting 
displeasure, to say if she had indeed made known 
circmnstances about the Princess of Wales, which Sir 
J. D[oug]as], her husband, had repeated to the 
Duke of [ ]. 

Lsidy [ ], who does not at all incline to favour the 

Princess, said she thought the Queen's conduct towards 
her unwarrantable ; for that, until she was pubUcly 
disgraced, she had no right to exclude her daughter-in- 
law from her public drawing-rooms, and she wondered 
that no friend of the Princess's took the matter up at 
that time, and brought it before pubUc notice, as an 
unprecedented act of despotic and unjust tyranny on 
the part of the old Queen. 

I received a short note from the Princess of Wales, 
sent by a person whom she introduced to me — ^a German 
flute-player. The letter of introduction was certainly 
a very novel one. It was as follows : — 

Dear [ ], — The bearer of this epistle is Monsieur 

R[ ], a fiddle-player, or a pipe-player, — ^I don't know 

which you would call him ia English — ^no matter ; he was 
recommended to me by a cousin of mine, whom I wish had 
been in de Red Sea when he sent dis man to my retreat here, 
which I would like to keep unmolested from tiresome people. 
But I find dat impossible ; so I must submit like a martjn: 
on de steak, to being annoyed all my life long, and live in 
hopes of a reward for my patience and my virtue in anoder 

Digitized by 



world, which cannot be worse than de present. Monsieur 

R[ ] teazed me to present him to you ; so I beg to waste 

your anger upon him, and not on me. His appearance will 
make you laugh till you die — ^that, at least, he has the power 
to do ; au teste, he is the dullest man God ever did bom, 
and I recommend you to have nothing to do wid him ; he 
is a grand bore. 

Why do you not come to Como ? I voud make you wel- 
come at my anchorite's dinner every day, if you voud eat 
my humble fare. Neither de G>mtesse Oldi nor myself are 
epicures; and very often we cook our own dinner! What 
vould de English people say if dey heard dat I Oh fie I 
Princess of Wales. The old begune Queen Charlotte is on 
her last legs, I hear. Mais faneme fail ni froid ni chaud 
now ; there was a time when such intelligence might have 
gladdened me ; but now noting in the world do I care for, 
save to pass de time as quickly as I can : and death may 
hurry on as fast as he pleases — I am ready to die. But I 

weary you, my dear [ ] ; ayez de Vindidgence pour moi 

and my grumbling, and believe dat 

I am ever yours, 

C. P. 

I dined with Sir [ ], In speaking of Mrs. Fitz- 

herbert, he told me that she had a stronger hold over 
the Regent than any of the other objects of his ad- 
miration, and that he always paid her the respect which 

her conduct commanded. "She was," said Sir [ ], 

** the most faultless and honourable mistress that ever 
a prince had the good fortune to be attached to ; and 
certainly his behaviour to her is one of the most unamiable 
traits of his character. I remember, in the early^da)rs 
of their courtship, when I used to meet them every night 

at Sir [ ]'s at supper. The Prince never forgot to 

go through the form of saying to Mrs. F[itzherbert] with 
a most respectful bow, ' Madame, may I be allowed the 
honour of seeing you home in my carriage.' It must^be 

confessed," added Sir Rj; ], " that it was impossible 

to be in his Royal Highness's society, and not be 

Digitized by 



captivated by the extreme fascination of his manners, 
which he iliherits from his mother, the Queen ; for his 
father has every virtue which can adorn a private cha- 
racter as well as make a king respectable, but he does 
not excel in courtly grace or refinement." 

Sir [ ] agreed with me in thinking that Mrs. 

F[ — — ]'s beauty was never of a high order, and he said 
he was surprised at so good a judge of female charms being 
captivated by her. 

'^What state secrets and court stories she might 
unfold 1 " he added ; " but she never will." 

Sir [ ] said, that he knew it to be a fact that, on 

the evening previous to the Princess of Wales's departure 
from England, the R^ent had a party, and made merry 
on the joyful occasion. I even heard that he proposed 

a toast, "To the Princess of Wales d ^n, and may 

she never return to England." It seems scarcely 
possible that any one could have allowed their tongues 
to utter such a horrible imprecation. But I can believe 
the Regent did, so great was his aversion to his wife. 
Besides, he Tiras Hot probably very well aWare what he 
was ^Bying at that moment. 

Sir [ ] complained of the Princess of Wales's custom 

of imposing her prot6g6s upon others, arid id parficulat, 
that H. R. H. wearied him about subscribing to S[apioJs 
concerts, till at last he toldpier he would not do so any 
ihote. On one occasion he said to the Princfess : — 
** S[apio3^s concerts are well known, ma'am, ^d at one 
time every one subscribed to them, and many 1 have been 
at myself ; but they became the worst in London in 
point of performers, and then the company was so 
disreputable, it was quite a disgrace to go there, ite 
alldwed every description of person to subscribe to 
them. I am no wajrs nice, madam ; but if I might be 
allowed to give my opinion, I should say your R. H. 
woiild do well not to patronise those concerts any more. 

Digitized by 



At an events I never will do so, and I will not attempt 
to coax anybody out of their five guineas for Mr. S[apio]/' 

I inquired how the Princess received this blunt avowal 

of his opinion. Sir [ ] replied, "With great good 

humour. I for one never remember to have seen the 
Princess of Wales angry. Certainly it does seem very 
strange that the Prince could not bear to live with her ; 
she would have been so easily managed by a little kind- 

Late in the evening, Sir [ ] and m3^elf looked in 

for a few moments at Torlonia's assembly, where the 
only novelty I discovered was Madame Nicolay, the 
Russian envoy's wife, who is not much worth seeing. 

The only news that I heard was, that Mr. [ ] was in 

great trouble about some disturbance which had broken 
out on his estates in Ireland. He told me that he was 
certain that more than three-fourths of the people ift 
Ireland are Roman CathoUcs, and said, " Perhaps I am 
not competent to judge, and that it is presmnptuous in 
me to speak at all on the subject ; but as far as I can 
form an opinion from having lived in the country almost 
all my Ufe, I fear that if the CathoUc question were to 
be carried, Ireland would very soon be lost to Great 
Britain, and nothing but the CathoUcs being kept under 
saves it. I hope I am neither bigoted nor intolerant ; 
but those who have so strongly advocated this measure 
have either been guided by party spirit, or that phil* 
anthropic and amiable though mistaken idea of Uberty 
which has, by not being deeply studied, created so much 

Mr. [ 3 also told me that a great proportion of 

his tenants are Quakers, and not the most peaceably 
inclined set of people. I asked him about their customs, 
and he gave me an account of a Quaker*s wedding : 
"It is a mighty hum-drum business. The meeting- 
house is always crowded, all the Friends being slssembled 

Digitized by 



whenever one of their sect marries. There is no ptdpit, 
but where it is usually situated stands a small table, 
with a green cloth and an inkstand. The bride sits 
between the bridegroom and her mother, with her face 
so concealed that it cannot be seen during the ceremony. 
She usually wears a pale gray gown, a cap, and a white 
shawl, with a laige veil thrown over her head and face. 
After sitting mute for three quarters of an hour, one 
of the " Friends " is generally moved by the Spirit, 
and ejaculates accordingly. The couple then take one 
another by the hand, and sign a paper, after which one 
of the congregation says a prayer, and the ceremony is 
concluded. The Quakers in my neighbourhood," he 
added, " are all very rich and powerful ; but a sad 
radical set in their political opinions." 

After this conversation with Mr. [ ], I soon left 

the assembly. 

December 15th. — I^ received letters from England, 
and one from my friend [Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe], 
the most amusing of correspondents. Dated thus : 

93. t 1 Strebt, 

Athens, Siberia. 

Drawing towards the close of the year, thank Heaven ! 

It was my duty, dear[ ], to answer your obliging 

letter much sooner, but I was very unwell when I had the 
honour of receiving it. I will not trouble you with a chorus 
of sighs and groans, much duUer than that in Greek tragedies 
(which people of taste cry up because they cannot construe 
it). In a word, I am now better ; and, ill or well, always 
your most humble servant. But why, in the names of As- 

modeus and Adamant, is your friend [ ^]f going to meddle 

with the heart ? Is she going to make a chronicle of all 
the hearts she has conquered ? In that case she must employ 
the American child, tiie wonderful summer-up, that I did 
not go to see some years ago. She should hate that odious 
word heart. Two of[her ancestors lost their heads formerly. 

Digitized by 



and gained nothing in return but glory. Now I am old 
enough, shame upon me ! to think that a living ass is much 
better than a dead lion. I will go on with my confessions. 
Here cometh something that I fear is not orthodox ; but pray 

betray me not to [ ], and the Christian (anti) Instructor. 

You must know that I have, ever since I knew the world, 
been firmly persuaded that our first parents, whether black 
or white, with tails or without, (Lord Monboddo held the 
tail S3^tem, and several other things which the Rabbis dis- 
pute about,) were certainly created without hearts. There 
can be no happiness with a heart. The heart is the seat of 
love, friendship, and compassion ; consequently of that hell, 
jealousy, distrust, and pity, even for devils. My notion is, 
that our parents acquired hearts from eating that crab of 
an apple. Perhaps they swallowed the pips, (hence black 
hearts,) and so the mischief grew. I am vexed whenever I 
think on it only. For a great many years I have never had 
the bad luck to meet with anybody that had a heart ; which 
proves the common assertion, that we improve daily ; and 
I wish the elect joy. However, I have questioned some 
anatomists, and they tell me that in their subjects they 
2lwBys find a sort of heart, frequently ossified, and frequently 
very small. I scarcely believe them. Burnet says, that the 
Duke of Lauderdale's heart was found at his death to be 
about the bigness of a walnut ; which I firmly credit ; but 
not that Hackston's trembled on the knife after it was cut 
from his bosom. Anatomists hold such a thing impossible. 
Of one thing we may all be certain, for Holy Writ hath it 
so — " The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately 

wicked." Fie on Lady [ ] for attempting to write on 

such an improper subject ! Pray advise her to give up the 
attempt to make onytidng decent out of such materials. 

We have nothing here but bad weather, and worse company ; 

not improved by the late importation, now settled at [ ] 

house. Those fools and monsters go out with guns and 
shoot every bird they can. They bagged a peacock the other 

day, and carried it in triumph to [ ], with the tail sticking 

out. Almost every morning they hunt a tame rabbit to 

death in the [ ] gardais. This sport reminds onejof 

Domitian and his flies. 

Whatever her plan may be, tell Lady [ ] to look into 

Digitized by 


i^^ THE UIARV of a lady-in-waiting 

" Burton's Anatomy of Mdantlioly/' wUch contains many 
cnrious hints about hearts. It is a copious mine for almost 
everything. I have read, or heard somewhere, that in the 
Hunterian Museum there is preserved a lady's heart, exactly 
resembling a roll of point lace! Doubtless the owner felt 
for nothing else. How has it chanced that the passion for 
point lace, monkeys, ratafia, and the spleen, has died with 
our grandmothers ? In a work I lately read, I was informed 
that a stone was found in the heart of young Lord Balcarres. 
It was lucky the lad died young. 

The gossips here are making a great fuss about the Princess 
Charlotte's heart, and are most curious to know what was 
found therein. Foolish people I they might be satisfied 
that of all the worthless hearts, a royal heart is the worst. 
But of this they are incredulous, and I will not attempt to 
make them beUeve that there is nothing worth finding in 
the pdot Princess's heart. There is one person's heart of 
which I would give a good deal to have the dissecting : it is 
the Princess of Wales's. That certainly must be a curious 
receptacle of heterogeneous matter, very full of combustible 
qualities, I should think, from aU accounts that reach us 
Athenians, though we have a great respect for her Royal 
Highness. Why has she never disturbed our peaceful city 
by doing us the honour of coming thither ? I thkik she would 
find it an agreeable ^jaur. We were threatened, you know, 
with a visit when she was to be sent to Holyrood Abbey. 
We are in a sad state of torpor and dulness, and I, for one, 
should be vastly delighted at her arrival. I am quite teady 
to be at her Royal Hightiess's command ; for I think she is 
excellent fun, and should much relish eating " mutton chops 
and toast and cheese " in her royal presence. 

Dear [ ] excuse this tiseless stuff, and believe me, ftc. 

I met Sir [ ] when 1 was out walking, and he joined 

me, and I had some interesting conversation with him 
on the subject of America. He was acquainted with 
Washington, and another American patriot, Arthur 
Lee, of whom he spoke in high terms. "He was," 
said he, " of a respectable family in Virginia. A mati of 
uncommbti activity of body and miiid; vety lidn^t,- 

Digitized by 



aa4 truly attached to the ^]lterests and happiness o| 
Amerijqa in general, as well as of his native province. 

" Arthur Lee to]4 me an a4)ecdote of Benjamin Franklin, 
which is very characteristic of the man. When he was 
to be preseAted to the French king by Vergennes, the 
count sent a pemiquier to the American, for the purpose 
of fitting him with a wig fashioned for the day. The 
perruque was brought to Franklin an hour before the 
time fixed for his presentation. The philosopher at- 
tempted to put it on. Alas! it WQuld not go on his 
head. "Sir," said Franklin, "your perruque }s yii- 
fortun^tely too small for my head." — " Pardonnez moi| 
Monsieur," replied the pemiquier, "your head, si;*, is 
vastly too laj^e, and quite beyond the fashion of the 
court." Franklin appeared, therefore, ^t court with his 
bald pate and shaggy gray hairs. It might truly be said, 
that there was not such another head at Versailles. 

" Franklin," continued Sir [ ], " though generous, 

was a great eco4omist. He never indulged himself in 
any trifling expenses, nor had any imnecessary establishr 
ment in his family. Books and scientific instruments 
were his only superfluities. By these meajis, with dean 
hapds, and without either covetousness, or sordid am- 
bition, he bequeathed a handsome ^ortime to his heirs, 
and so^ie laudable legacies to his country. Franklia> 
Wa^nngton, and JUttenhouse, are perhaps as fine ^, 
CQnstellatjbon as any that has appeared at one time in 

any country," observed Sir [ ]. "At the peace, 

and acknowledgment of American independence byGneat 
Britain, Doctor Witherspoon of the College of New 
Jersey came over to soUcit subscriptions for his com- 
munity, and he foolishly conmiitted both Imnself and 
his country by begging from the haughty and tyrannical 
islanders a reparation for their destruction of the 
monumients of science. 

*'I saw the old gentleman frequently aA Loijidon 

Digitized by 



in the beginning of the year 1782, and entreated him to 
desist from his foolish imdertaking. He had engaged, it 
seems, in America, in speculations that were not very 
consistent with either his cloth or his tranquillity. Among 
these, one was in the iron-works of a projector, who had 
engaged many persons in Britain, of covetous dispositions, 
wM(±i induced him to aim at the interests of Buckingham 
HausCy where the worthy lady at the head of the table 
was believed to have hedgers for her behoof in the scheme. 

I was shocked," continued Sir [ ], "when I learnt 

this, and found myself thereafter but little disposed to 
venerate the clerical member of the Congress, though 
I somewhat doubted the authenticity of the information. 

" Of Franklin," continued Sir [ ], " it might with 

truth be said, that he was simple, honest, and unafiected 
in all his ways. The genius of a republic formed by 
himself infused itself into all his dealings. Long may 
his spirit invigorate the children of the forest, and teach 
them to found public virtue on the basis of domestic 
morality ; and may they continue to remember also 
who desired that the foundations of American policy 
might be laid in the pure and immutable principles of 
private morality ; and that the pre-eminence of free 
government might be exemplified by all the attributes 
which can win the affections of the citizens, and conunand 
the respect of the world. Such were the injunctions 
laid upon them by their great and good champion Wash- 

I listened with attention to this, and a great deal 

more that Sir [ ] said on the subject ; but I confess 

that I did not feel so deep an interest in American pros- 
perity as in that of Europe. There are no ancient 
recollections attached to the former ; everything is in 
its infancy ; a new world calls for new feelings, and in 
an old breast it is not easy to kindle much warmth for 
ages yet unborn. Like the wailing or the smiling of a 

Digitized by 



babe, however interesting to its kindred and parents, 
there is nothing beyond its mere humanity to excite 
much interest in the minds of strangers. Associations 
with the past generally make a place, a people, or an 
individual more an object of endearment than any mere 
promise for futurity can possibly excite. These are the 
venerable links which bind us fast with the children of 
the soil ; and, looking back upon the past, we partake 
doubly of the present, and are insensibly led on to hope 
for the future. 

Sir [ ] told me a piece of modem gossip, which is, 

that the Duke of [ ] sent Miss S[ ] a carte blanche 

to fill up with whatever terms she chose to ask, if she 
would but consent to receive his professions of admiration ; 
upon which the story goes that the lady had the good 
sense and courage to write only one little word on the 
paper, viz. "Duchess," and returned it to the bearer 
to convey to the nobleman. From that day forth, it is 
said, she has never heard any more tidings of the Duke 

of [ ]. 

If this be true, it is a curious anecdote, and goes for 
towards proving the truth of the other on dUs respecting 
the same illustrious personage. But in truth on dUs 
are often like the sayings and doings of some malicious 
fairy, and should no more be credited than such idle 

I received a letter from Miss F[errier], by a private hand : 
how I object to such modes of conveyance ! I had much 
rather pay postage for letters from those I like to corre- 
spond with, than receive an epistle written a century 
before it comes to hand, as was the case with the following : 

Dear [ ], — ^Next to seeing the summer's sun, and 

smelling the summer's rose, nothing could have been more 
refreshhig to my sick spirit than the sight of your vivif3dng 
characters. I confess I often lament, but indeed I never 

Digitized by 



dare to npine at your silsnce, but, on the contrary, wonder 
and admire your goodness in ever thinking of me at all. 
This has boen a very cruel winter to me ; but I flatter myself 
the worst is now over, and that I may live to fight the same 
battle over again ; for life, vnih me, will always be a warfare, 
bodily, as wdl as spurikud: perhaps the more of the one 
the le96 of the other ; at least it is a comfortable doctrine to 
believe, that the sickness of the bpdy often conduces to the 
health of the soul ; and I confess myself to be such an old- 
fashioned Christian as to have faith in such things. I am 

now better hearted. [ ] comes and amuses me very often, 

and crams me with news and with noveb, and teUs me what 
is doing in this round world, which otherwise might be standing 
stock-^till for me. And now, having said so much upon so 
insignificant a subject as self, let me turn to a far more inter- 
esting theme. Your descriptions of your travels do indeed 
set my feet moving, and my heart longing to see all you have 
seen; and this desire has been increased by reading the 
*' Corsair " lately ; it is indeed exquisite, the most perfect, 
I think, of all Byron's performances. What a divine picture 
of death is that of the description of Gulnare i 

I am now labouring very hard at " Patronage," which, I 
must honestly confess, is the greatest lump of cold Iea4 I 
ever attempted to swallow. Truth, nature, life, and sense, 
there is, I dare say, in abundance, but I cannot discover a 
particle of imagination, taste, wit, or sensibility ; and, without 
these latter qualities, I never could feel much pleasure in any 
book. In a novel especially, such materials are expected, 
and, if not found, it is exce^ngly disappointing to be made 
to pick a dry bone, when one thinks one is going to enjoy a 
piece of honeycomb. It is for this reason that I almost always 
prefer a romance to a novel. We see quite enough of real life, 
without sitting down to the perusal of a dull account of the 
commonplace course and events of existence. The writer 
who imitates life like a Dutch painter, who chooses for his 
subject turnips, fraus and tables, is only the copyist of inferior 
objects; whereas the mind that can create a sweet and 
beautiful though visionary romance, soars above such vulgar 
topics, and leads the mind of readers to elevated thoughts. 
Besides, it is so agreeable to live for a Uttle while in the 
enchanted regions of romance; and since works of fiction 

Digitized by 



are means (at least 'tis their legitimate aim) to amuse, not 
to instruct, I think those which do not aspire to be useful, 
fulfil their calling better than those which set forth rules of 
morality, and pretend to be censors on the pubUc mind and 

Forgive this long essay, dear [ ], on novels and romances. 

You were so kind as to say you would introduce me to 
Mrs. Apreece ; and, independent of everything else, I should 
have had great pleasure in meeting with a person you liked. 
But, in the first place, I feel 'tis only your extreme goodness 
that could have made you propose it ; in the second, it could 
only be for your sake that Mrs. Apreece would submit to 
the penance of visiting me ; so I think I had better remain 
in my native obscurity, and not attempt to have the advan- 
tage of knowing this lady, of whom report speaks so highly. 
I am a wonderfully stupid person, having very Uttle desire 
ever to see the most celebrated individuals. Ill health, I 
suppose, contributes to the apathy of my feelings ; and 
altogether I very much resemble a dormouse in my habits 

and temperament. So, if you please, dear [ ], unless you 

wish to introduce me to Mrs, A[ ] in the character of 

Mrs. M'Clariy, I think I had better forego the honour. 

With regard to my own performances, I must confess I 
have heard so much of the ways of booksellers and publishers 
lately, that I find a nameless author has no chance of making 
anytiiing of the business, and am quite dispirited from con- 
tinuing to finish my story, and very much doubt if it wiU 
see the light of day. What a loss to the world will be the 
suppressi(m of this child of genius ! Besides, the cold water 
thrown on my esiro by these cruel personages, the forefinger 
of my right hand (that most precious bit of an authoress's 
body) feU sick, and you may judge of my alarm when the 
surgeon pronounced it to have been poisoned: he in the 
ignorance of his mind supposed by some venomous particle 
it had imbibed when working in the garden ; but, for my part, 
I have no doubt but it was a plot devised by all the great 
novelists of the age, who, having heard what great things it 
was about, had in the envy of their hearts laid their plan for 
its destruction. However, their malice has been defeated, 
as, after being lanced and flayed alive, it is now put into a 
black silk bag, and treated with all the tenderness due to 


Digitized by 



its misfortones. But, jokiiig apart, should my book be ever 
published, how shall I get a copy sent to you ? and, dear 

[ ], Mdll you never, never say to anybody that it is mine, 

and commit this epistle to the flames, and not leave it lying 
about ? I am become a person of such consequence in my 
own eyes now, that I imagine the whole world is thinking 
about me and my books. I turn red like a lobster every 
time a novel is spoken of, and whenever the word authoress 
is mentioned, I am obUged to have recourse to my smelling- 
bottle. I mean to send a narrative of my sufferings to 
D'Israeli, for the next edition of '' Calamities of Authors/' 

My chief happiness is enjoying the privilege of seeing a 
good deal of the Great Unknown, Sir Walter Scott. He is so 
kind and condescending that he deigns to let me and my 
trash take shelter under the protection of his mighty branches, 
and I have the gratification of being often in that great and 
good man's society. A few evenings ago he gave me some 
couplets he wrote for our friend Lady [ ], which I trans- 
cribe for your perusal, feeling certain that the shghtest pro- 
duction of his muse must give every sensible and feding 
mind infinite pleasure. The great simplicity of character, 
and unaffected afiabiUty of this astonishing man's manners, 
add infinite charms to his disposition ; and he is as delightful 
as a private individual in society as he is supremely so in 
his works. The society here, nevertheless, is a good deal 
broken up ; many of your old acquaintances have forsaken 
our city for the great Southern Babylon, and some are dead, 
and otiliers grown poor or old ; in short, such changes have 
occurred as generally fall to the lot of humanity. And, now, 

dear [ ], I will not longer tax your patience by adding 

more to this voluminous letter, except the assurance that I 
shall never cease to be your faithfully and obliged 

S. F. [Susan FerrierJ. 


Written on the occasion of Colonel [ '] giving 

him a pitch pipe. 

When Freedom's war-hom bade our land 

Her voluntary lances raise, 
The Minstrel joined the patriot band. 

To view the deeds he loved to praise. 

Digitized by 



But ill exchanged his studious fire 

For wmter chills and warlike labour ; 
And ill exchanged his ancient l3rre 

For crested casque and glimmering sabre. 

To banish from his threatened march 

The toils and terrors of the hour. 
Thou gavest (considerably arch) 

A charmed pipe of magic power. 

Not the frail pipe of simple oat 

That loves the shepherd's lore to tell 
Nor the war-pipe, whose marshal note 

Bids warmth in Highland bosoms swell ; 

But that within whose bosom bum 

The odours of the eastern clime, 
Of power to bid past scenes return. 

And speed the wings of lingering time 

Content and quiet hope are nigh. 

When its bland vapours curl in air, 
And reasonings deep and musings high : 

And many a kindly thought is there 

And dreams of many a happy day 
Shall charm the Minstrel's soul the while. 

When the blithe hours dance light away 
At Friendship's laugh and Beauty's smile. 

Enough — ay and more — ^f or I feel at such time 

Things not to be uttered in prose or in rhyme, 

Yet to light your meex-schaufn may these verses aspire 

Being pregnant with genuine poetical fire. 

This conceited assertion, though bold, yet most true is 

If you will not believe me, pray ask Mr. Lewis. 

On the tail of each line as his poetical eyes squint. 

He will tell you at once if a false rhyme he spies in't. 

Digitized by 



In one point they defy his exertions so clever, 
A false rhyme he may spy, a false sentiment never. 
Halt, La — or you'll say, with a good humoured damn. 
That you smoke in my verses Damascus all sham ; 
Or tell your fair dame, while you show her such stufiE, 
You have lost a good pipe, and have got but a puff. 
Then I'll stop in good time, lest my credit I blot. 
While I live, I remain hers and yours — ^Walter Scott. 

P.S. — I cannot attend you this evening — that's flat. 
For a thousand strong reasons which will not shew pat. 
If instead you'll accept us to-morrow at dinner, 
(I can't find a rhime to't, unless it be sinner,) 
At expense of your beef and your ale I will show it. 
The bluff trooper's hunger and thirst of the poet. 
And then in the evening together we'll scramble. 
To storm the fair mansion of friend Mrs. [ ^ 

Once again I subscribe myself yours, 


These vers de soci&£ may not indeed add much to the 
lustre or the fame of the great Walter Scott ; but they 
prove (if indeed any proof were wanting) that the friend 
and companion of the social board was not lost in the 
blaze of the genius that brightened the world. The 
kindly heart and simple mind, which were ever ready to 
share and to increase the pleasure of others, are stamped 
on this lighter effusion and tmbending of a playful hour, 
and are valuable as giving a portraiture of his private 
life and intimate associates. Neither is the letter, which 
favours me with these verses, less remarkable than the 
verses themselves. The writer is gifted with talents 
that might shine in the highest spheres, and that has 
thrown out effulgent brightness, as it were, in despite of 
itself ; but a rare and touching humility shrinks from 
all human praise, and with perfect sincerity avoids that 
celebrity which others would gladly obtain, and which is 
so justly her due. 

Digitized by 



December i6ih. — I dined at the Duchess of [ Js, 

where nothing was talked of but the wonderful wealth 
that has been bequeathed to Watson Taylor. By the 
death of his wife's brother, Sir Simon Taylor, he has come 
into a fortune of upwards of ;£8o,ooo a year. Of this, 
;f5oo,ooo is in the funds of this country for the purchase 
of an estate ; and he has besides estates in Jamaica, 
which net from seventy to eighty thousand per annum. 
A rich uncle of Mrs. Watson died two years ago, and 
left this immense property to his nephew. Sir Simon, 
and his heirs ; and if he should die without children, 
he made his eldest niece, Mrs. Watson, next heir. Sir 
Simon was a young man, and likely to marry ; so that 
the Watsons' chance seemed a poor one About two 
months ago he died, and the Watsons have come into 
the whole of his immense possessions, and are said to be 
the richest commoners in England, as there are no 
hereditary expenses or outgoings entailed on them. 
Sir Simon, in the two years he possessed the estates, 
had amassed in savings ;fi6o,ooo, which he left to his 
yoimgest sister. They were all children of Sir John 
Taylor, an old baronet, whose brother, Simon Taylor, 
retired to Jamaica, to an estate he had there, and passed 
a long Ufe in accumulation, the fruits of which are now 
showered on the Watsons. They have taken the name 
of Watson Taylor ; have refused a baronetcy, and, I 
beUeve, many higher honours. They talk of purchasing 
Houghton, a magnificent seat of Lord Cholmondeley's, 
formerly Sir Robert Walpole's, which, it is said, is the 
finest house in England, and is altogether a princely 
domain, surpassing Blenheim in all respects. It was at 
one time thought of for the Duke of Wellington. The 
objection for hhn was its not being in a hunting county. 

What a wonderful change of fortune for these persons ! 
— from only having had an income of two or three thou- 
sand a year, with tastes far beyond such limits, to almost 

Digitized by 



boundless and iinequalled riches ! It is said they are 
full of projects of splendour and enjoyment. 

Sir Henry Lushington is appointed consul at Naples ; 
which afiords him and his family the utmost satisfaction. 

December 12th. — I was much gratified by receiving 
the following letter from Sir Walter Scott : — 

Will you, my dear [ 1, allow an old, and, I hope, not 

an unremembered friend, tlie privilege of intruding upon 
you, by letter, in a cause which, I know, will somewhat 
interest you, who unite so remarkably the power of procuring 
much with the wish to assist distress. I allude to my old 
friend, and your acquaintance, the Ettrick Shepherd (for I 
will not mention him by the unpoetical name of Mr. James 
Hogg) who is now, as you will perceive by the enclosure, 
venturing upon the public with a collection of ballads. Some 
of them, if I (myself a ballad-monger) may be permitted to 
judge, have a very uncommon share of poetical merit ; and 
the author of these beautiful pieces, some of which I used 

to repeat to you at the delightful attic evenings of [ \ 

street, is now actually an hired servant. I have been exerting 
all the little influence I possess to fill up such a subscription 
as may enable him to stock a small farm from the profits ; 
and I have been very successful here. I believe I may daim 

something of a promise from [ ] and you to assist me in 

this matter ; and as I know your influence in every society 
which has the honour to possess your countenance, I hope 
you will get me a few names for this miserable son of the 

I will not attempt to tell you the blank your absence has 
made among your friends here. Pray remember me most 

kindly to [ ], and tell him I have not smoked a single 

cigar since I saw him. I am sure it will give you all pleasure 
to learn that Mrs. Scott and my Uttle people are well, and 
that the world is smiling on us through the clouds. I have 
got an excellent situation ; it is, however, for the present, 
but a land of Irish sinecure ; being all work and no pay. 
But I have the word of my predecessor, a very worthy gentle- 
man, that he wiU not Uve unreasonably long, and on his death 

Digitized by 



I succeed to a thousand a year ; and meanwhfle have the 
world, as they say, for the winning. 

I find Lord [ ] is in town, so I will endeavour to procure 

a frank from him for this epistle ; for it would be too bad to 
receive begging letters and pay postage too. 

I am, with great respect and regard, your most devoted 
and faithful humble servant, 

Walter Scott. 

I cannot say how much this letter pleased me, inasmuch 
as it proved that though the writer is now a great and 
celebrated personage, he still retains a grateful remem- 
brance of one who knew him before he was known to 
fame. I shall do my utmost to get subscribers to the 
Shepherd's work, and I set forth immediately to Sir 
Humphrey Davy, who, I know, would gladly assist me 
in so interesting a ptusuit. 

I did so, and the visit was productive to me of a great 
treasure ; for seeing some verses l}Hng on the table, I 
asked permission to read them, upon which I obtained 
a copy of the following lines, which are, apart from their 
own merit, invaluable as coming from so great a man. 



Thou little gem of purest hue, 
Who from thy throne o'erspread with dew 
Shed'st lustre o'er the brightest green 
That ever clothed a woodland scene ; 
I hail thy mild and tranquil light. 
Thou lovely living lamp of night. 

Thy bed is in the deepest shade. 

By bracken or by violets made ; 

For thee the sweetest minstrel sings 

That haunts the vernal grove ; 

O'er thee the woodlark spreads his wings 

And sounds his notes of love. 

Digitized by 



Companion of the lights of heaven. 
Thine is the softest breeze of even ; 
For thee the balmy woodbine Uves, 
The meadow grass its fragrance gives, 
And thou canst make thy tranqvdl hour 
In summer's fairest, sweetest bower. 
The hour of love is all thy own ; 
Thy light shines forth for one alone, 
Sheddmg no transitory gleams, 
No Tzys to kindle and destroy. 
Peaceful, innocuous still it besims, 
The light of life, of love, of joy. 

H. D. 


TO LADY [ ]. 

Take from this hand a worthless lay, 

The offspring of an idle da]( 

An angler's simple song, who dreams 

In cities still of woods and streams ; 

And may it a memorial be 

Of kind and worthy thoughts of thee. 

He now Schehallen's form can greet ; 
Tay loudly murmurs at his feet ; 
The wild rose scents the summer air. 
And from the birchen covert near 
The blackbird's sweetest song is sent. 
Speaking of love, nature, content. 

A hallowed mountain nymph to name 
In such a spot becomes her fame ; 
For Nature's unpolluted child. 
She loves the woods and torrents wild, 
Rocks, glens, the overhanging sky. 
And nature's forms of majesty. 
She courts, exalts her lovely mind, 
By pastoral visions pure, refined. 
Pursues untired her duties high. 
And nobly conquers destiny. 

H. D. 

Digitized by 



December 14/A. — I received the following letter from 
Sir WiUiam Gell :— 

I thank you, my dear [ ], for yours of the [ ], and 

scarcely dare attempt to answer so amusing an epistle, since 
I must fall so short of attaining to the excellence of your 
style, and am a complete bankrupt in news of every descrip- 
tion. The extracts you sent me of " The Thompson " corre- 
spondence are charming. I am happy to see " we " have 
lost none of our powers of writing ; "dot" would be a great 
pity ; and trust some day that all those invaluable specimens 
of her epistolary genius will be gathered together, and printed, 
and set forth, as models for letter-writing to posterity. 

Have you heard that S[ ]i, the great phlosopher, has 

been making a fool of himself, and falling in love with Lady 

[ ] ? Fancy S[ ] in love ! Pretty Cupid ! He wrote 

verses to her, and was aux petits soins all the time she was 
staying at [ ]. 

There was a fite champHre at the Villa d'Este a short time 
ago, of which, I dare say, you have heard all the particulars, 
libs. Thompson must have looked divine as a Druidical 
priestess, which was the character " we " assumed ; and Le 
Comte Alexander Hector von der Otto figured charmingly 
as a god, to whom all the priests and priestesses did homage. 
Willildn was the victim offered to his druidical majesty. 
The Count Alexander generally wears the insignia of the 
most holy order of Saint Caroline, which consists of a cross 
and a heart tied together with a true lover's knot, and the 
English royal motto encircling the badge : " Honi soit qui 
mal y pense." * How far these words are appHcable to the 
case, I cannot say ; far be it from me not to take them in 
the sense they are intended to convey. 

" We " go constantly on the lake in " our " barge, and are 
serenaded, and are, as " we " say, very happy ; but of that 
I have my doubts. To be serious, I am tnily sorry for Mrs. 
Thompson, whose " kingdom is departed from her," as surely 
as that I am at this moment agreeably occupied in writing 

* Joseph Jekyll, one of the Anti-qneenites, thus describes this Order : 
" That of St. Caroline has round the centre-piece in a circle the motto* 
Honi soit qui mal y pense. The centre and the four pieces forming 
the cross are made of red cornelian. You see they are good and 
cheap." (Letters, p. 103.) 

Digitized by 



to you. She has never heard once from Prince Leopold since 
her daughter's death. The manner in which she is treated 
is shameful ; but, alas ! they have so much to say against her 
in excuse for their detestable conduct, that one cannot cry 
them shame. 

Do you remember, dear [ ], all the fine promises his 

Serene Highness made his bride to defend her mother ? See 
how they are performed! There is a certain saying, of 
" Put not your trust in princes," &c., which is but too true 
in this instance. 

I hear you are all starving with cold at Rome, so that I 
dare not venture on a pilgrunage thither. I am at present 
(for me) a comely looking person — ^no crutches — ^no velvet 
dressing-gown or ornamented cap, like Sir Brooke Boothbsr's ; 
and being anxious to preserve my beauty, to say nothing of 
the comfort of being free of gout, I will not expose myself 
to the danger of going to a less genial atmosphere than that 
of this blessed city. 

The good King Geoi^ge the Third is really dying in earnest, 
I hear. A more honest soul never went to heaven than that 
of his Majesty. Tis said in a whisper, that already his suc- 
cessor has had plans made for the show of his royal coronation, 
which is to exceed in magnificence all spectacles of the kind 
ever seen. Perhaps this may be a lie ; and do not give me up 
as your authority, when relating this piece of gossip ; but 
have pity on your poor old friend, who is your faithful 

Adonis [ ]. 

^ P.S. — ^Think you Mrs. Thompson will consent to being 
excluded from her place in the show *' as is to be?'' I should 
say certainly not, without a tussle for it at least. " We " 
are too fond of gold lace and theatrical amusements to waive 
" our " rights ; besides, sometimes " we " remember " we " 
axe royal, though we often forget it. What part could the 
Count Alexander Hector von der Otto take in the ceremony ; 
— ay, there's the rub ; and I don't think *' we *' should like 
to go without him. "No more, in mercy no more," you 
exclaim^ and I crave pardon : and once more sign myself 

Your obedient 


Digitized by 



I went in the evening to a dull assembly at Miss J[ Js. 

There I saw Lady B[ ]n, who proved to be the very 

same person I knew at B[ ], but so beautiful I scarcely 

should have recognised her ; she has grown much fatter, 
and looked quite radiant with happiness and prosperity. 

Previously to going to that party, I dined at Lady 

R[ ]'s. There were Lord and Lady Dalkeith, and 

General F[ ] and some pleasant people present ; 

yet it was not an amusing party. Lord [ ] and I 

talked over old times — Kensington Palace times, when 
we used to meet there frequently. He reverted to the 
evening on which Lord H. Fptzgerald] paid the Princess 
of Wales a compliment, on the occasion of her complaining 
of the weight of some ornaments. " Her Royal Highness," 

said Lady R[ ], " observed to me, on returning from 

taking off the jewels, * If I could make myself beautiful 
as a Venus, I own I wished to do so this night.' It was 
evident that Lord H. F[itzgerald] was the favourite: 
* H^las ! c'est bien triste de vivre, si le coeur n'a aucun 
objet qui Tinteresse.' " 

Lord R[ ] made some friendly remarks on this 

poor Princess ; as also did Lady R[ ]. The latter 

is perfectly a woman of fashion, and always agreeable ; 
indeed, from many traits I have known of her, I am 
sure she is kind-hearted also. What a pity it is that 
principle does not give support to the amiable parts of 
such a character, and that we cannot entirely esteem 
that which we are inclined to love I 

I heard a curious story related about a dream that 
Lady de Gifiord dreamt concerning the Princess Char- 
lotte, a short time before the death of the latter. Lady 
de Clifford thought she saw the Princess kneeling at the 
altar, and that some persons were vainly endeavouring 
to place the crown on her head ; but when at length 
they succeeded in pressing it on, her face was covered 
with blood. Dreams are strange things^ and 1 think 

Digitized by 



nobody has ever yet accounted for them satisfactorily. 
I never could understand why the Princess of Wales 
disliked Lady de ClifEord, for she was an excellent up- 
right person, and very friendly towards the Princess. 
Certainly the person who influenced Princess Charlotte 
in being on her guard how far she defended her mother, 
was Miss E[ }. 

London, June lyth, 1819. — ^A long lapse in my Diary ; 
but it matters Uttle, for I have had nothing to record of 
interest during the last few months. I find myself now 
once more immersed in the gaieties of a London season, 
in which I had thought I never should again participate. 
But my young orphan niece, a girl of great beauty, and 
not less amiable than beautiful, and very dear to me, is 
the object which induces me to seek such scenes. At 
first a few of my old acquaintance were amazed when 
they discerned my altered and aged face in the gay 
crowds. But now their wonder is at an end, and I pass 
unobserved, like the rest of the old and the pass^es that 
nightly haimt the scenes of mirth in the metropolis. 
There is no accounting for the fact ; yet I must confess 
the old stagers, who have without intermission gone on 
living in constant dissipation, look less aged than those 
who have been absent for some years, on their return 
to the world. Not one of my contemporaries appears 
to be half as old as I am ; yet many of them have suffered 
sad and strange vicissitudes, and lost many friends, 
even like myself ; nevertheless their countenances do 
not betray so much anguish as mine does. There is 
Lady St. Leger, and Mrs. Hillsborough, and a hundred 
other ladies past forty, by I will not say how many years, 
who look as if they might be my daughters ; their well- 
rouged cheeks are so smooth — their cm-Is so raven — and 
their teeth so white. I will not look worse than they. 
I have a great mind to begin again wearing rouge, and 

Digitized by 



get a new " front," and grow young. Yet I shrink from 
assuming youth now it is gone. I cannot buy a young 
heart, and fling away the old worn-out wearied one 
that beats feebly within my aged breast, and is such a 
faithful warder over the memory of the bright days of 
my real youth. Ah, no ! fictitious youth is a clumsy 
piece of acting. I will not play the part. My pretty 
Sophy's partners will not admire her the less because 
her chaperon looks old : — ^so be it then. 

Last night we went to Lady [ ]'s concert, and 

heard some fine finished singing ; but there was nothing 
of pathos or of sentiment in the difgcult and scientific 
pieces which were performed. The music, however, was 
good enough for all the attention that was paid to it 
by the company, who only meet (with few exceptions) 
to see and be seen, talk and be talked to, and care little 
in fact for the merits of the music they nominally as- 
semble to Usten to. The company was a great mixture 
of trumpery and finery, Uke a lady's maid's rubbish-box. 

I saw there Lady C[ ]t, who looks all sweetness, 

though the world says it is only look. Lovely she is 
without doubt ; yet hers was a loveliness which never 
transported the beholder. Why is this so ? The defect 
must lie within. 

Mrs. R[ ]y was there also. She is much the same 

that she was twenty or thirty years ago, only less fire 
in her eyes. Voili ce que c'est que d'etre une belle laide 
et avoir de I'esprit ! The mind does not deteriorate 
with time, but the reverse ; and it sheds a grace over 
decajnng or faded beauty, that leaves much less to regret. 
General Alava was there ; the only man I should have 
Uked to have been acquainted with ; but he was engaged 
in conversation with Lady S. W[ ]. 

Poor Mrs. G. L[ ]e, how she has changed ! Her 

fair freshness gone, and aU the ripeness of her youth 
prematurely withered ! Still there is something fine 

Digitized by 



in her full rich lip ; and it is some praise to be beaten 
down with sorrow. I fear^she has had her share. 

We remained at Lady [ Js till two in the morning. 

I was pleased with the music, and amused with my own 
reflections, more than with any particular circumstance 
or person I saw — ^yet wearied with the heat, and happy 
in the thought that my happiness does not rest in such 

June the i»*.— We dined at Miss [ Js. The party 

consisted of Mr. North, the G[ ^Jds, and the De G[ ]. 

It was a dull party. At midnight we found ourselves 

in Lord B[ Js magnificent palazzo, a sort of house 

that certainly deserves the name, although, could X 
have possessed such an abode, the situation is not one 
I should have chosen — St. James's Square. I met 
hosts of former acquaintances ; — amongst them Loid 

P[ ]n. Lord H[ ]e, the Duke of P[ ]d. Lord 

L[ ]e, Mr. G. C[ ], Prince L[ ]d, Duke of 

G[ ]r, &c., all vastly gracious and kind to me in their 

different ways. The Duke of P[ ]d was sitting be^de 

Lady [ ], in his old lazy way, in an arm-chair. It 

brought back to my remembrance, many years ago, 

when he was at F[ ], and that her parents wanted 

him to marry her. 

Lord Dudley walked about all night like a troubled 
ghost. He is so pale and so mean and miserable looking, 
when he comes up, holding out a finger, that you ahnost 
expect it is for charity. Yet in that dirty head, and 
under that appearance, there is more — how much more 
worth conversing with — than in the handsome gay 

Lothario, Lord W[ ], or many such ; and who would 

be the latter, if they could exchange their lot for the 
former ? No one, save, perhaps, the man himself ; for 
I have observed, that whatever men may say or pretend, 
they are more anxious to be reckoned handsome and 

Digitized by 



pleasing than to obtain any other suffrage ; at least, 
certain it is, that no other suffrage is completely grati- 
fjnng to them, without some consciousness of personal 

Lady S[ ], who is in years still a young woman, 

looks prematurely old. Her dissatisfied temper has made 
great havoc with her beauty. 

Mrs. B[ ]k looked as well as any of the people of 

her age at the ball. She has those outlines, and that 
fine-shaped head, which time never wholly spoils. Mrs. 

W.L[ ] is changed indeed in manner and in appearance. 

W. L[ ], always fascinating, looking as though he had 

missed of life, but infinitely in better spirits, and more 
capable of enjoying what was going on, than when I 
last saw him. His daughter's beauty is far inferior to 
her mother's, and wiU fall like a blossom, and be no 
more remembered, for there is nothing in it but youth 
and freshness. 

Lady G[ ]r is by far the most distinguished young 

woman I have seen, and her manners are dignified. She 
appears to have much nature and sweetness. It is to 
be hoped that her husband will cherish these qualities, 
and not sully them all by too great an indulgence in 
the follies and dissipation of the world. I have heard 
only one fatal thing against this fair promise of happiness 
which blooms around them : it is, that he is a sceptic t 
But report is not truth, and people are apt especially to 
say evil of those who are favoured by fortune in every 
way, as Lord G[ Jr is. 

June the igth. — ^We went to Kensington Gardens. 
A gay multitude were assembled there ; but I met few 
of my acquaintances. Lord Archibald Hamilton, Mrs. 

[ ], Lady S, P[ ], Mr. P[ ], were the only 

persons I knew. I could not help thinking of the poor 
Queen, of all that she might have been, and all that she 

Digitized by 



had not been. These remembrances led me far away 
from the actual scene. How true it is that we live 
chiefly in the past and the future ! 

In the evening I went to Miss B[ ], — a sort of 

female cotSrie — Lady L. S[ ], Miss M[ ], Miss 

D[ ], Mrs. M[ ]. Lady L. S[ ] has both 

sweetness and sense in her expression. These are the 
qualities that shed a grace on the human face, when 
youth and other graces are gone. 

Miss [ ] received me somewhat coldly. Her 

greeting chilled me. I have a great tenacity of friend 
ship, and am much bound by habit. I easily return to 
old feelings of kindness, however long a time intervenes 
between what was and is ; and I tried not to resent her 
cold welcome, but it was not the less keenly felt. 

June the 20th. — I visited Lady L. S[ ]t ; she was 

very kind and very agreeable. How I lament not having 
cultivated her more ! How I lament many things which 
are now imattainable ! 

We went in the evening to the opera. It was Meyer- 
beer's " Crociata in Egitto ; " on the whole a heavy 
opera, but containing some delicious pieces of composition 
scattered through it. It is original and full of feeling ; 
but occasionally the effort to be original is too visible, 
and there is an intricacy in the harmony that detracts 
from that natural expression which is the result of im- 
passioned feeling. It fails most in its recitative ; it 
shines most in the quartetts and quintetts. The single 
songs are poor and laboured, but there are two duets 
perfectly beautiful. The house was empty, and looked 

June the zist. — The mornings are spent in a busy 
haste about trifles ; and altogether, to me personally, 
this mode of life is anything but agreeable. In the 

Digitized by 



evening we went to Almacks' ; the very dregs of dancing 

men and women. Mr. N[ ] is comically attentive 

to me : seeing that I am hkely to live in the world, he 
is anxious to be upon my raft, and to float into the same 
tide. But if he knew the world as well as I do, he would 
not feel this to be necessary ; for a title in the near 
distance, and inmiense wealth in possession, are sure 
passports to the smiles of the world. 

I saw no one, and heard nothing worth remembering. 
London folks are weary of gaieties, and they are drawing 
to a close. Would that their end were come I 

Jime 22nd. — ^We went to the Duchess of B[ Js 

ball, which was made up of all the greatest and most 
refined of society. Certainly, if one is to mix with the 
world, the highest class are those best worth associating 
with. The Duke of Clarence and Prince Leopold were 
present, and all those who despise these personages, and 
yet seek to meet them. 

I had a long colloquy with Lord C[ ]r, who I think 

is a charming person ; but the world says his wife does 

The Duke of Clarence was gracious to me, and reverted 
to old days. Although Prince Leopold is a much hand- 
somer man, there is an openness in the countenance of our 
own royal family, which promises more truth of character. 
The Duke of Clarence is grown very like his father. 

Lord L[ ] is as pleasant as he ever was. The 

rising generation are not transcendently handsome : 
but there is a vast portion of scattered beauty in the 
yoimg female aristocracy of the present day. A daughter 

of Lady H[ ]y has a distinguished air ; and a daughter 

of the Duke of [R ]d is certainly very handsome ; 

but for manner I admire far more one of the Ladies 

H[ ]y, who has an elegance and a tranquillity, wihtout 

fadeufy which is quite enchanting, and very rare. 

n N 

Digitized by 



June 23rd. — ^Dined at Lord Dudley's. A charming 
house and some good paintuigs. We arrived an hour 
before Lord Dudley made his appearance ; but there 
was plenty of objects to delight and amuse. Lord and 

Lady A[ 3n, Lord and Lady W[ % Mr. M[ ]d, 

Mr. M[ 3, the Archbishop of [ fs sons, Colonel 

G[ ], Mr. [ ], Sec. formed the party. Lard Dudley 

had on a new and rather extraordinary chocolate-coloured 
coat, but looked so clean and fresh, that I did not know 
him for the same person. His dinner was admirable 

in every department. Mr. [ ] is very ill. I think 

Lord Dudley has a look that way. When I asked him 
some question in r^ard to his going abroad, alluding 
to his own fortune and situation, he said, ''When a 
great trump card turns up at home, one has no rif^t not 
to play one's hand." This was like a person thinkiiig 
aloud. He evidently puts all due value on his station 
and fortune ; but I think he is a kind person, with some 
genuine feelings of friendship and truth about him which 
are as imcommon as they are valuable. 

JiiUy is^. — The same difficulty of writing every day, 
which has ever made me find it impossible to kaep a 
regular journal, has occasioned this lapse. Once mom 
I resume my diary. 

Mr. A[ y called on me. He is living at [ ] 

house, where, he said. Lady [ ] was very ill, and 

that the fear of death had taken hold of her, and she 
was in very low spirits. She began, he said, to think of 
that which, if she had thought of it before, she would 
not be so miserable now. This was one of the many 
confirmations which occur every day, to make one think 
seriously where to cast the anchor of trust. Such a speech, 
from such a person, of such a woman, preached with 
more force than a thousand homiiies. 

In the evening we went to the Haymarket Theatre, 

Digitized by 



and saw a vulgar, stupid representation of what wais 
intended to be a story in high life, where, among other 
gross mistakes of good breeding, the lady heroine is made 
to kiss the inn-keeper, and another lady to tell him all 
her plans and secrets ! So much for the representation 
of fashionable Ufe ! This false, flat thing is taken from 

one of [ 3's novels, wherein the manners of high life 

are totally misunderstood ; and I have often remarked 
that the beauty or the defects of any work are made 
more prominent by translation of any sort, as the flavour 
of wine is best known by mingling it with water. 

We escaped as soon as we could from the theatre, and 
on my return home I was glad to have the enjoyment of 
reading SchlegeFs History of Literature. It is a fine work, 
built on a sure foundation ; and though I do not always 
agree with his taste, his feelings and his principles are 
exactly what I believe it is right to square one's own by. 

July znd. — Spent a quiet day at home. Read '^The 
Story of a Life,*' by Sherer'; a powerfully written book 
with vivid description andj truth of portraiture, both 
as to human character and to the effects of the scenery 
of nature. It has much interest, uid a fine vein df 
religious morality distinguishes it from the co^iunon? 
place productions of literature. 

The Duke of S[-r-r-] visited me. His conversation 
is extremely agreeable and instructive ; very different 
from the mere frippery of the world. His favourite 
hobby is a noble one — ^the formation of a good library ; 
and his pursuit is that of doing good, and being at the 
head of all charitable institutions, as well as promoting 
science and the art. The very pretence of these tastes, 
in a man of his ranks, shows a certain greatness of aim ; 
and now that the effervescence of youth is gone by, and 
that he does not, in the spirit of party zeal, render himself 
too conunon, be vill certainly rise to a higher estimation 

Digitized by 



than it has been supposed he would do. He spoke well, 
and lamented the subjugated state of Italy, its despotism, 
and its return to consequent bigotry ; and declared that 
he could not Uve there, and would not return there on 
any account. "All my friends,." he said, "are either 
dead or dispersed, and all those who remain are trampled 
upon, and debased by poverty and cruelty ; and as I 
could not always have my hand in my pocket to relieve 
them, I should be wretched. Germany too," he continued, 
shrugging up his shoulders — " there is only one place in 
Germany I would go to— the Duke of [ Js dominions." 

Jidy yd. — I went to Holland House ; a formal, fearful 
piece of amusement. Lady Holland on her throne as 
usual : very gracious to me, but still " gracious.** I 
foimd no subject of conversation, and she was also, for 

her, unusually dull : so time went on heavily. R[ ] 

and Macauley were there ; but even they did not shine 
with their usual briUiancy. Mrs. R[awton] and Lady 
W. R[ussell] were also present. I think marriage has 
done much good to the latter. She seems much softened, 
and is, as she ever was, very dis^inguie, and very agree- 
able. Her husband appears to be a shy, gentlemanly- 
looking person. I could not judge what else he was, 
and feared to talk with him. Some how or other I lost 
my own identity in that society, and yet it appeared 
to offer much entertainment. Lady H[olland] kept me 
strictly imder her wing, and tied me down as it were to 
her chair. She is now in bad health, and there is an 
excuse for her being placed above everybody else, and 
calling all the people by her, as though she had a crown 
and sceptre in either hand. But I am told she always 
did so. It must make a gine in the society. But Lord 
H[olland] is ajdelightful person, and much is borne to 

obtain his presence. Lady [ ] told me a curious 

story. She said the Duke of B[ ] had formed the 

Digitized by 



greatest attachment for Lady [ ^], and one evening, 

after she had been cutting a few jokes at Lady [ Js 

expense, the Duke wrote her four sides of paper, to say 
how much it grieved him to see that any member of 

his family thought slightingly of Lady [ ], and he 

requested that she would never do so in future. 

July 4/A. — Visited Lady H[ollan]d, who was much 
more agreeable, and in a different maimer, than I had 
any idea she could be. How slow we ought to be in 
forming opinions of the character or agrSmens of others ! 
for so many people are superior to what they seem on a 
slight acquaintance, and so many, on the contrary, are 
inferior to what they at first appear to be, that we should 
be careful not to judge of them in haste. 

Miss K[nigh]t came in whilst I was at Lady H[olland]'s. 
Her presence put me in mind of the poor Princess, and 
Princess Charlotte. I like Miss K[night] ; that is to say 
I honour and esteem her characrter. The old Queen 
certainly behaved very iU to her. 

The Duke of Y[ork] has fallen desperately in love 
with the Duchess of R[utlan]d, and a few days since he 
walked her up and down Kensington Gardens till she 
was ready to faint from fatigue ; so he ran off puflSng 
and blowing as fast as he could, and brought a pony 
into the gardens, upon which he aired her up and down 
for two hours longer. When the Regent heard of this, 
he is said to have chuckled with delight, exclaiming, 
" Y[ork] is in for it at last." 

Visited also Lady W. G[ ]. She is a person whom 

I like, I know not why ; but she has a charm for me ; 
and as there are certain metals drawn together by a 
mysterious law of nature,ffor which man^can assign no 
cause, except that thus it is7so there are certain attractions 
in| moral nature which fpixKlucelthe^sam^effect. 

Dined at Sir [ ] ; Lady w! R[ussell], Mrs. [Rawdon] 

Digitized by 



R[ ^], Comte Lieven, Mrs. S. C[ 3^ Lord and Lady 

[ ], Set. Lady DCacrJe, that extraordinary genius, 

who^ as sculptor and poet, has borne such pahny wreaths 
from Fame, that few or none of her own sex can vie with 
her in thesejdepartments of genius. 

It is not always that Lady D[ ] condescends to be 

the charming person she can be. Occasionally her manner 
is abrupt, especially towards those whoih she regards 
not highly ; but I have heard that in all the domestic 
scenes of life she constitutes the charm of existence: 
can a woman aspire to a more blessed honour than this ? 

Fosoolo bore testimony to her correct translations of 
many of Petrarch's most ufUranshUable poems ; and it 
is her peculiat merit to be diffident of her own powers, 
and modest in her estimation of them. 

Another very rare and valuable point of character is, 
that whatever change takes place in the circumstances 
or situations of her friends, she never forsakes them. 
There is no higher eulogy can be bestowed than this ; 
for it tells of that which outlives and outshines all praise 
— ^namely, worth and goodness. 

I^y [ ] is changed certainly — morally improved ; 

but evidently disappointed in marriage. However, as far 
as regards her husband, she appears happy. But she 
was a woman of great worldly ambition, and that passion 
has not been gratified ; and she lacks that feminine 
tenderness which fottns of itself an ambition a|)art, and 
enjo3f8 a world of its own, over which it reigns, and which 
is superior, in the power of bestowing happiness, to aU 

other ambition. This is not Lady [ Js nature ; and 

yet^ being virtuous, good, and sensible, she doe& hot seek 
for excitement in a frivolous and dangerous pursuit of 
pleasure. But the life of life — the quicksilver of the 
thermoiheter — ^has sunk many degree, and she has not 
yet found in her hom^ that enjoyment which wiU^make 
it rise to its former height. I should hope, however, 

Digitized by 



that she may do this ; for there is sufficient matter and 
sufficient good sense in her character to make her see 
the necessity, as weU as deUght, of not suffering the 
flowers of existence to decay for want of culttire. 

Lady F[ ] is a singular little person. At first she 

appeared to be all pufi and frivolity of character ; but 
this is not the case. She does not pursue her course 
without calculating upon the proceeds of her voyage. 
Whether her calculations come to any stable conclusion 
teste d sfovair. 

Mr. C[annin]g is a very pleasant man, though some- 
what too measured ; and he has a diplomatic tightness 
of lip which betrays his profession. StlU the having a 
profession, when followed up successfully, is of incalcu- 
lable advantage to every man. It gives a sort of lustre 
to the conunonest minds ; and to those of finer and 
firmer terture it imparts a double value. 

The [ ] parties want the germ of vigour and amuse- 
ment. I know not how it is, but, in spite of flowers and 
champagne, they do not pass off quickly or agreeably ; 
yet they are composed, too, of what is highest in rank 

and renown. Comte L[ ] was there. He appeals to 

me a good sort of man, but very dull. Who knows what 
else he may be under the cloak of his gtay, silent humour ? 

Ji^ 5^A. — ^At home all day. Read Gk>6the's life, and 
Tweddell's Remains. The latter is very invigorating, 
showing great animation of soul, joined to a high moral 
character. Goethe's Life does not make the reader love 
him — not as far as I have read at least. 

We spent a quiet evening at home, and so passed to me 
this holiiay from perpetual dissipation. 

July 6th. — ^Went in the evening to Miss Lydia White's.* 
She il^ one of those melancholy spectacles, in point of her 
* A great diniier giver. 

Digitized by 



bodily circiunstances, which is at once so painful and so 
salutary to contemplate. Immovable from dropsy, with 
a swollen person and an emaciated face, she is placed on 
an inclined plane raised high upon a sofa, which put me 
in mind of the corpse of the late Queen of Spain at Rome, 
in the church of the Santa Maria Novella. But even 
under this calamity she has many blessings — a comfortable 
house, and the attentions of the world, which are pleasant 
even when they are mingled with the alloy of knowing 
that they are paid as a price to obtain selfish amusement 
and gratification. What more solid advantages she may 
enjoy I cannot say, because she is a stranger to me. 
There is something, also, pleasant in the reflection that 
the world, even the gay world, do not totally neglect 
those who are about to leave it. Oh yes, there is more 
of good mingled with the bad, even here below, than this 
world and its inhabitants are often given credit for. 

Mr. and Mrs. F[ ], Lord and Lady Charlemont, 

Sir John Copley and his beautiful wife, so like one of 
Leonardo Da Vinci's pictures. Lady D[ ], &c., com- 
posed the coterie of the evening, which was peculiarly 

July jth. — Spent the first part of this day in a disagree- 
able manner, trying to mediate between two persons who 
are at variance. The result unsatisfactory. The details 
too long to put down on paper, so I omit them, and 
commence by speaking of a delightful dinner party at 
Miss Lydia White's. A scene of a very different kind to 
that in which I had spent the two foregoing evenings. 

Lady D[ 1 Miss [ ] F[ ]w, Mr. Moore, Sir K. K. 

P[ 1 Mr. Sharpe, Major Denham, and ourselves, 

constituted the party. Major Denham is a great traveller, 
who has been further into the interior of Africa than any 
previous traveller, and his descriptions of deserts, and 
skieSi and cameb, were very vivid, and carried me with 

Digitized by 



him in idea on his pilgrimage. The tranquil patience of 
the camels — ^their quiet submission to the inevitable 
sufiering of their lives — their obedience and humility — 
are exquisite pictures of the virtues of the brute creation 
and are deserving of man's imitation. Major Denham's 
description also of the pitching of their tents, when the 
travellers halt for the night — ^the silent calm of the scene 
— ^the vast ocean of sand, in which not even an insect 
dwells — ^the well by which they halt, and to which the 
travellers of the trackless desert look for life — ^the canopy 
of starry heavens spread out above all — combined, as 
Major Denham said, to form one of the most sublime 
pictures that could be imagined 

When Major Denham had concluded his interesting 
accoimt of his travels, I turned to listen to Mr. Moore and 
Mr. Sharpe, who were talking of Sheridan and Curran, 
and mingling the sparkle and acmnen of their own minds 
with the transcript they drew of others. This rendered 
their conversation highly interesting. Whilst hearing 
Major Denham describe the sublime scenes of nature in 
which he had been living, I felt a strong desire to visit 
those places ; but when I heard the brilliant and intel- 
lectual conversation of Mr. Moore and Mr. Sharpe, I 
thought, who would not prefer to hear such a flow of 
intellect, rather than even the refreshing sound of waters 
in a desert ? But the fact is, it is the variation of human 
life which gives it its highest zest ; it is the alternation 
of rest and labour — of contemplation and action — ^and 
above all, is it not the contentment which arises from a 
well-regulated mind, that gilds every season and every 
scene with a feeling of self-satisfaction which is unknown 
where this does not reside ? 

In speaking of Sheridan, Mr. Moore observed, that it 
was curious to see what pains he took to produce the wit 
which seemed to dart with such electric s\idftness, whereas 
all he uttered was previously polished, filed and purified. 

u i'j 1 V ~ r -.. 



Digitized by ' 


He mentioned having many pages illustrative of this fact 
to put into his life of Sheridan, which, he said, he thought 
was useful for all composers to see* *' Yes," rejoined Mr. 
Sharpe, '' I remember his father telling me that there was 
only one quality more extraordinary in his son than his 
application, and the pains he gave himself to bring what- 
ever he imdertook to perfection : ' it is,' 6aid he, ' the 
pains he takes to hide it.' '' 

After dinner Moore sang. Many, niany years have 
passed since I heard him. The notes of the bitd ate as 
sweet as ever — ^perhaps not quite so full — but the fire 
and the sweetness cure not impaired. He stands alone in 
this accomplishment, or rather sits like some chorister 
of spring, on a flowery bush, gifted with perpetual youth, 
of feeling and of fancy. His melancholy is never more than 
tender, let him strive to mourn how he may ; and his mirth 
is never quite exempt from sentiment. When any other 
hand attempts to strike his lyre, it fails ; when any other 
voice tries to sound his reed, it fails also. It is not singing ; 
there is none of the skill of the mere mechanic in the art : 
it is poetry : the distinct enunciation, the expression, the 
nationality of his genius, which will ever remain in 
inimitable gift — ^when heard, delighted in, and never to 
be forgotten. 

Juiy icih.—I drove to Lady D[ Js. She is very 

fascinating, and I know not why. Surely if any one wet« 
to ask a gift of the fairies, it would be fasdnaUon. Saw 

little Lady [ ] in whom there would be no fault to be 

found, were this world all. 

July 11th. — Dined at Lord Lansdowne's the same 
nearly as at Miss White's ; but minus the traveller, and 
with the addition of the Knight of Kerry. The latter 
gives me the idea of a person hiding a dark spirit under a 
sunny brow. But it is wrong to give way to such giotmd- 

Digitized by 



lefis impressions of chafacter,^and I check them ; yet, they 
Will not sometimes be effaced. Notwithstanding a fine 
dinner (not a good one) a charming house, and a kindly 
host the whole thing was not as it was at Miss White's, 
even though Moore sang. 

I do not know what to think of Comte and Comtesse 

[ ]. He impresses me with being — thoroughly good. 

She is piqiMfUe, in an odd brusque way. I think she has 
warm feelings too ; but she has seen much of the world, 
and probably distrusts it. There is sense and sweetness 
in her eyes ; but I could not fathom her, and I do not 
know if it is worth while to do so with all new acquaintance. 
Yet the surface of things alone never satisfies me. 

Moore sang " The Parting of the Ships.** One sees 
the waves dancing, and the distant sail ; and then it 
nears, and there is the greeting, and the short-Kved joy 
of speaking to another floating world full of human 
creatures ; and then the parting again, each to sail over 
the lonely ocean ! How very true it is to nature I how 
thrilling to those who have witnessed the scene I The 
other song which he sang was "The Lovers and the 
Watchman ; ** the one recalling reality and woe — the 
other foiigetting there are such things annexed to time, 
and even time itself, till day breaJcs, and the whole 
illusion vanishes 1 

These are the pictures of song — El Cantar che nel 
anima si sente. 

I received a letter from Mr. Spiarpe]. 

Dear [ "], — ^Though one of my eyes is swelled like a 

gooseberry after a rainy day, and consequently writing is 
very uncomfortable, j^t I am resolved to obey your commands, 
though they should convert me into a Cupid or a Belisarius. 
But I fear you will deem me a bird of ill omen, as to your first 

You ask me ia^What estimation Lord [ '\ stands in the 

world. Alas I I cannot say much for him, but refer you to 

Digitized by 



the memorial Horace Walpole hath left of him. You make 
me blush when you are so condescending as to make me 
such flattering eulpgiums on my epistolary genius. To speak 
with sincerity, I never piqued myself on that score ; for I 
consider it so elevated a talent to have the genius of good 
letter-writing, that I have never attempted to gain the steep 
height of that fame. The next best style to an artificial 
quality of exceQence in that line, I think, is to write naturally ; 
and nature has always some merit, if she is suffered to have 
her free will. Affectation is never more tiresome and ridi- 
culous than in a letter. Madame De Sevign6 was the best 
letter-writer that ever existed. I would rank Swift and 
Lord Chesterfield next. Voltaire to me is charming ; but then 
I suspect he studied his epistles, as Lord Orford certainly did, 
and so had little merit. Heloise wrote beautifully in the old 
time ; but we are very poor, both in England and Scotland, 
as to such matters. Pray make for answer to your fair 
friend, who seeks autographs, that I will do the little in 
my power to obey her commands ; but that, I fear, will be 
very little. 

As to my own wretched stuff, I am sure, dear Lady [ ] 

was laughing at me, which is cruel enough. Tell her not to 
pour ink upon a drowned mouse. " Pity the sorrows of a 

poor old man," as that poor old beau. Sir [ ], so movingly 

quoted the other night in the House of Commons. Though 
my memory is greatly impaired by complaints of the stomach, 
which sometimes for months make me " sleep as sound as a 
mouse in a cat's ear," and have deUvered me up to blue 
devils — ^fiends which never set claw in my mind when I had 
much better reasons for discomfort — I am not yet brought 

to that sad pass to have forgot Lady [ ]. Pray tell her 

that I often think, and alwa)rs with wonder, of nature's 
prodigaUty towards her. Extraordinary beauty, a genius 
that would have made an ugly woman handsome, and an air 
and manner that would have captivated any heart I Indeed 
I have always thought of her with surprise, and, allow me to 
add, a little vanity too. Her goodness to me in former times 
is one of my recoUective cordials. That remembrance can 
never be smothered by my horrid extinguisher, a flannel 
nightcap. Nay, the lestless claws which I mentioned above, 
can never efface it from my memory.^i .^ 

Digitized by 



But now to return to business. (How I hate the ugly 
word !) I think I once had the honour of sending you from 
Oxford some notices which I had collected concerning the 

family of [ ] [ ] principally, if I remember right, from 

Richard Baxter. One was of a lady (this was not from 
Richard, however, the good man who thought all poetry 
profane, save David's and the Song of Solomon) who wrote 
verses. Though I have always be^ an engrained Jacobite, 

I have alwa}^ entertained a great admiration for [ ]. 

After reading many private as well as pubhc documents 
of his age, I am persuaded that he and Lord Melville were 
the two only honest pohtical characters in Scotland. 

In the Commissary Court Record there is an account of 
the .death of Queen Mar^s relation, [half sister] Lady [Argyll]. 
She died of the falling sickness and was buried in the royal 
vault at Holyrood House. Her will was disputed after her 
death, which led to the commissary proofe. 

N.B. She did not carry on the family, which I am glad of, 
though she was, in one sense, the King's daughter. Illegiti- 
mate children are never to be borne in a pedigree. I may 
venture to say this now, as I shall never be in London any 
more, where it made one sick to see so many of King Charles 
the Second's imputed sins (he was not the teal sinner in one 
half of them) taking place of their betters, with all the pomp 
and parade possible. Their real progenitors were players and 

But, dear [ ^], I dare say you are wishing me a rope for 

all this dull useless stufi: so I will in discretion conclude. The 
modem Athens is much deserted. All the choice spirits who 
used to congregate here are dispersed or dead, or grown 
old and crabbed. In short, I have no society save that of a 
tortoise-shell cat, and a few musty papers. Yet I have not 
the courage to remove hence, or to find myself in the great 
Babylon of London, where I should find aU changed, and I 
doubt if, with my old-fashioned ideas, I should approve of 
the " improvements'' No. I am content to let my breath 
slip away in this city. But I sincerely hope that you will, 
some day ere I die, make out once more a journey to Scotland. 
Entering fuUy into all your feelings respecting the modes of 
traveUing, but hating danger, jolts, nay, motion as much as I 
do, I re&ie upon your id^, and would choose to make my 

Digitized by 



jxlgrimages drawn by six blade snails, with long horns, in a 
padded boat, the bottom rubbed with butter, and on roads 
either of glass or of pdished marble I 

Adieu, my dear [ ] ; my gooseberry warns me to have 

done ; and so, with all the respect I fed for you, permit me 
to subscribe myself your old and attached, &c. 

Monday, i6^A January. — ^A fortnight, and no journal ! — 
Yesterday one of those dense fogs that choke respiration 
and obscure intellect. 

I saw Mr. L[ ]. His account to me of his future 

wife was suffidently eccentric, like himself. I do not 
think he is enamoured ; but he is now to believe that 
he is doing a wise thing. He says his love is clever — 
deddedly quite matter of fact ; but of course he thinks 
she has charms, and seems soberly settled on matrimonial 
arrangements of convenance. 

I received an answer from Miss M[ ] to my applica- 
tion to her to accept the offer of becoming Lady C. 
L[ambf s companion, which I was not sorry she declined, 
as I do not think either would suit the other. Both have 
piany good qualities, but of so totally different a character, 
that I do not think they would have amalgamated well 
together. La4y C. L[amb] is certainly, I should say, 
a httle mad — ^not suffidently so to require restraint 
pers(MiaUy; certainly she ought to have a sensibte 
perscm put about her, wl^o could minister cc^nfbrt to iu^ 
poor mind, and prevent her indulging in the fits of melan- 
choly which come over her at times. When she is free 
from these attacks, nobody can be more agreeable in 
sodety than Lady CaroUne,^'and her conversation is both 
original and superior. She spoke to me the other day 
of Lord B[yro]n, and endeavoured to make me believe 
she had never been in love with him. But seeing, I 
suppose, that I appeared incredulous, she only said, with 
a sigh, " He is certainly a most unfortunate person to 
have been married to Lady B[yro]n." Then slie added 

Digitized by 



^tb gre^t troth, *' It was eacceedingly unwise in her to 
marry him, after having r^sed him. That is an afiront 
no man ever forgives a woman." I assented to this 
observation, and fully agree with Lady Caroline in thinking 

it was unwise ef Lady B[ ^]n to act in the manner 

she did. 

i Lord D[udle]y came to see me yesterday. He was in 
one of his most sane moods, and nobody is so delightful 
as himself when he is placid and collected. Lord D[udle]y 

is also, Uke C[ ], I think, rather eccentric ; but he is 

Wf^nderfuUy clever, and his peculiarities only add to the 
interest he inspires. Lord D[udle]y complained of the 
unsatisfactory footing on which London society is carried 
on, and threatened to go abroad. I assured him, that 
although there was less form and reserve in foreign 
society, it lacked many of the agrSmans and advantages 
that w^e to be found in an agreeable circle of English 
society. In the first place, there are so few persons of 
aQy great superiority of talent, in Italy at least ; — the 
generality of the men are knaves, or mere followers of 
pleasure, and the women are as illiterate and still more 
iQcdisb. It is the climate and the associations attached 
to the continent which are the chief attractions to a 
prolonged stay there. I said all this to Lord D[udle}y, 
and added, that a paison of his rank and consequence 
and power could command a much more agreeable society 
in London than in any pkLce I had ever yet been at. I^ 
only replied, " Perhaps you are right," and then, taking 
up his hat, left the room without further ceremony. 

I received a letter from Lady [ ], who is still at 

Rome. She lately made an excursion to Pisa, where, 
she says, she found several of her country people, who 
were exceedingly agreeable. Amongst them she named 
" the Blantyres, Lord Frederick Montague, and the 
Misses Wilson, sisters to the Mr. Wilson of Edinbwgh, 
who is making such a figure in the literary world there, 

Digitized by 



and succeeding nearly as much as his predecessor, Dugald 
Stewart in his profession. Lady Blant3a'e, being in 
delicate health, seldom goes out ; but Lord Blantsore 
dines with me frequently. He is a pleasant, quiet, 
soldief'like man. He distinguished himself in Eg3rpt, 
has lost his health in consequence, and is obliged to leave 
his own beautiful place on Clyde's side, to seek a milder 
climate. But descriptions of persons, unless they are of 
a peculiar and marked character, or figure on the great 
stage of the world, are very uninteresting, and I only 
mention his name by way of letting you know how my 
time has been spent, and with whom, since we parted. 
The natives at Pisa do very little for the agrhnens of 
society. One lady, however, opens her house, who was, 
by the way, famous as having been the mistress of the 

Duke of [ ] ; she accompanied him to England, I 

believe, in former days. Be that as it may, she is a 
mighty good sort of person at Pisa, according to Italian 
morals, and is the greatest lady in the place, with a laige 
establishment. This Madame gave one magnificent 
ball, to which I went, and where I was gratified by the 
sight of several very pretty women ; the first, I may 
almost say, I have seen in Italy. The gentlemen are all 
without exception, hideous ; like Uttle black and yellow 
monkeys, dr^ed up after the French fashion, with their 
chains, rings, &c. The best looking resemble couriers, 
and brigands, but none, even of the noblest title, ever 
look like gentlemen. 



I heard that the Princess of Wales wrote to England to say 
it was her intention to return there shortly. I cannot see 
what purpose she will now gain by so doing, since she com- 
mitted the folly of leaving the country in her daughter's life- 
time, when it would have been proper and advantageous 
for her to have remained. She will derive little benefit, I 

Digitized by 



fear, from going back to England, now poor Princess Charlotte 
is dead. The few who liked the Princess of Wales for her 
own sake, independent of worldly considerations, are scattered 
about in different parts of the world, and I should be afraid 
her Royal Highness would find it difficult to collect any 
number of persons agreeable and eligible to form a society 
fit for her to associate with, since almost everybody is in- 
fluenced by expediency ; and alas ! no one who is actuated 
by such motives would seek to attach themselves to this 
unfortimate and ill-advised woman. 

I am sorry to say there is but too much truth in the 

foregoing remarks made by Lady [ ] with regard to 

the Princess ; altogether it is a melancholy subject. I 
for one, cannot foresee the end of the dark fate that I 
fear awaits her Royal Highness. 

I dined at Miss White's, and met there' Lady [ ], 

who was just returned from Cashiobury, looking very 
unwell, and talking in a very melancholy strain. 

There is something saddening in beholding so much 
of the activity of life and its warm feelings wasted upon 

nothing ; for by all I ever learnt or heard of Lady [ ], 

her whole existence has been a mistake. She is certainly 
a person possessed of no common abiUties, and of a kind 
heart. It is a pity to see her seeking from the world, 
and the gratification of its vanities, that happiness which 
it can under no circtunstances ever confer, when it forms 
the only pursuit in life. 

At dinner, the conversation (as it too frequently does) 
turned upon the Princess of Wales ; and knowing my 
intimate acquaintance with Her Ro}^ Highness, people 
often, I think with ill-bred curiosity, attack me, and seek 
to make me disclose all I know and think about her 
character, &c. Last night I cut the matter very short by 
sajong, in reply to all interrogatories, that I knew nothing 
against the Princess, and that if I did, I certainly never 
would disclose it. Some of the party asked me if her 

II o 

Digitized by 



dress was not very injudicious, and many other similar 
questions, which it was difficult to answer. But at last, 
finding I was unwilling to give them any information, 
they started fresh game, and the poor hunted hare was 
suffered to escape. The dinner was less agreeable than 
it usually is at Miss White*s, and the evening was dull ; 
everybody appeared to think so. Yet Mr. Moore, and 

Conversation Sharpe, and Sir H[ ], and other learned 

and pleasant people, were present ; but they were not 
in their agreeable moods ; and so, even with such in- 
gredients to form a charming party, it failed of being 

Tuesdayy January lyth. — I received a letter from 
[ ], in which she says — 

I have been in a great deal of extra bustle, and have had no 
control over my own time. We have had a court-martial 
to encounter, and every person has been busy trying to make 
their houses pleasant to fifteen general officers, (some of them 
heroes,) besides all the young witnesses summoned on either 

side, and the [ ] themselves. Dinners and parties have 

been endless, and [ ] has been turned into a scene of 

dissipation ; at least if daily engagements can be so called. 
The good society here is not numerous ; so that the same 
individuals became almost a necessary ingredient at each 
party. I love the alternations of active employment and rest 
too well to be gratified by such a total bouleversetnefU of my 
usual habits ; but there was no choice on this occasion, and 
I must say the parties were very pleasant, and the usual 
society of the place brightened beyond description by the 
intermixture of so many agreeable strangers. Amongst the 
gentlemen were Sir Samuel Achmuty, Sir Edward Paget, and 
General Harris — all heroes. We had, besides, some pleasant 
personages in Lord Charles Fitzroy, Lord Ludlow, General 
Montresor, and General Grey ; and a very amiable president 
of the court in Sir A. Clarke. Indeed all the members were 
more or less agreeable. The guards also of the prisoner. 
Lord James Murray, Colonel Ponsonby, (a very unaffected 

Digitized by 



young man, and very unlike his sister,) were by no means 
disagreeable ; and Sir A Barnard, as a ¥dtness, together 
with Generals Donkin, Clinton, Smith, &c., severally con- 
tributed to the general ogrAnent. The [ ] themselves are 

also very pleasant members of society. She is a fine handsome 
woman, very tall, and on a large scale of beauty ; yet she is 
soft and feminine in manners, and seems to possess an exqui- 
site serenity of temper. She was a daughter of the late 

[ — -], and is niece to the present Lord [ ]. 

The rich N[ ]s and G[ ]s kept open house for these 

brilliant strangers. Sir [ ] had too much business to enter 

into the gaieties ; but Lady [ ] mixed in all the parties. 

I have foigotten to mention a General and Mrs. Whittingham. 
He is a distinguished officer in Spain, and summoned by 

Sir [ ] ; his wife is a native Spaniard whom he fell in 

love with and married. She does not speak English, and 

only very bad French ; but with Lady [ ] and Sir [ ]'s 

aides-de-camp D[ ]t and C[ ]e, she was able to con- 
verse in her own language, as they speak Spanish fluently. 

Mrs. W[ ] is called the Spanish beauty, and is certainly 

very pretty ; dark and bright little eyes like diamonds, with 
teeth like pearls ; but since her confinement she has lost her 
figure, which was once, I am told, as pretty as her face. It 
is now very thick, and, as she is extremely short, the effect 
is clumsy ; but her animation, vivacity, and good humour, 
with her brilliant eyes, render her still a very striking little 
person. My time has not only been lost by these dissipations, 
but by my attendance in the court. I went one day out of 
curiosity, and became so deeply interested that I could not 
resist attending the whole trial. I think it was impossible 
to hear the proceedings and the facts, and witness the different 

manners and tempers of Sir [ ] and his prosecutor. Admiral 

[ ], without being warmly anxious in favour of Sir [ ] 

We are now awaiting the award of the sentence with great 
impatience. The General passed it on Tuesday ; but it is 
not yet made public. I feel there cannot be a doubt that ti 
will be an honourable acquittal, and I sincerely trust we shall 
not be disappointed. The Generals went on Tuesday. There 
still remains Sir E. Paget, who was very anxious to get away, 

to join his bride elect. Lady Harriet Legge. Colond D[ ] 

is a brother of the Comtesse St. A[ ]. He gives a very 

Digitized by 



favourable account of the Comte, and of her happiness. In 
the settlement of her fortune he has behaved most liberally, 
is devoted to her, and has the sweetest temper possible. 
They are going to return to England, to which country he 
professes to be strongly attached. Lord George Seymour 

has lately been spending a few days here with Dr. N[ ]. 

By the way, speaking of him, what think you of that strange 
business which removed him from the tutorship of the Princess 
Charlotte ? He is a man of superior attainments ; indeed, 
I may say, of wonderful acquirements, and I believe good- 
hearted ; but he has a strange inconsistency of manner, that 
checks the progress of intimacy, and prevents the full compre- 
hension of his character. Facts, however, speak strongly in 
his favour. He was the best of sons, and also an excellent 
brother. He was, poor man, jilted by two women ; and this 
has soured his mind towards the whole sex ; that is to say, 
as to opinion and contempt of the female understanding ; 
but it has not made him less an admirer of beauty, or less 
zealous .in seeking its smiles ; so he is a flirt amongst the 
misses, but not, I think, a favourite amongst the matrons, 
whose amour propre he continually offends. And now it is 
time I conclude this long gossiping letter, which I shall do 
by assuring you that I am yours, &c 

In the evening I went to the Misses [ ], where I met 

the usual set that assemble at their house. I cannot say 
I found there the entertainment which is proverbially 
ascribed to that society. But this I attribute to not being 
sufficiently intimate with the persons who form it. And 
as a specimen of the best English company, a stranger 
could not be taken to a more distinguished assemblage 
of all that is most worth seeing in London than is to be 
found in their house. They have effected that pleasant 
mixture of literati with the gay and great, which is so 
seldom achieved. 

The only person I saw there, whom it gave me pleasure 

to talk to, was Lady [ ]. She is singular ; but so full 

of verve and enthusiasm — so different, in short, from the 
characters one generally meets with, that she formed a 

Digitized by 



pleasing variety in the human species. I do not think 

she was in her proper sphere at the Misses [ ]. They 

do not understand her, and she does not understand them. 
Lady [ ] is always kind to me, and it must be con- 
fessed that any person or thing which is out of the jog- 
trot of life gives a fillip to existence. The square-and- 
rule people one constantly meets with, are very unin- 
teresting. To my surprise, I learnt that Miss C[ ] 

V[ ] has married a Comte A[ ]o. He is a general 

in the army, and well spoken of ; and I am told she is 
very happy, but has become a complete ItaUan, and 
declares that she never wishes to see England again. 
This information amused me. What odd events take 
place in life ! 

Tuesday^ the 20th of January. — I dined at Lady C. 
L[ambf s. She had collected a strange party of artists 
and literati, and one or two fine folks, who were very ill 
assorted with the rest of the company, and appeared 
neither to give nor receive pleasure from the society 
among whom they were mingled. Sir T. Lawrence, 
next whom I sat at dinner, is as courtly as ever. His 
conversation is agreeable, but I never feel as if he was 
saying what he really thought. He made some reference 
to the Princess of Wales, and inquired if I had heard lately 
from her Royal Highness. I replied that I . had not ; 
and, to say the truth, I did not feel much induced to talk 
to him upon the subject ; for I do not think he behaved 
well to her. After having, at one time of his life, paid her 
the greatest court, (so much so even as to have given 
rise to various ill-natured reports at the period of the first 
secret investigation about the Princess's conduct,) he 
completely cut her Royal Highness. 

Besides Sir T[homas] there were also present of this 
profession Mrs. M[ee], the miniature painter, a modest, 
pleasing person ; like the pictures she executes, soft and 

Digitized by 



sweet. Then there was another eccentric little artist, 
by name Blake ; * not a regular professional painter, but 
one of those persons who follow the art for its own sweet 
sake, and derive their happiness from its pursuit. He 
appeared to me fuU of beautiful imaginations and genius ; 
but how far the execution of his designs is equal to the 
conceptions of his mental vision, I know not, never 
having seen them. Main d'ctuvre is frequently wanting 
where the mind is most powerful. Mr. Blake appears 
unlearned in all that concerns this world, and, from what 
he said, I should fear he was one of those whose feelings 
are far superior to his situation in life. He looks care- 
worn and subdued ; but his cotmtenance radiated as 
he spoke of his f avomite pursuit, and he appeared gratified 
by talking to a person who comprehended his feelings. 
I can easily imagine that he seldom meets with any one 
who enters into his views ; for they are peculiar, and 
exalted above the common level of received opinions. 
I could not help contrasting this humble artist with the 
great and powerful Sir Thomas Lawrence, and thinking 
that the one was fully if not more worthy of the distinc- 
tion and the fame to which the other has attained, but 
from which he is far removed. Mr. Blake, however, though 
he may have as much right, from talent and merit, to the 
advantages of which Sir Thomas is possessed, evidently 
lacks that worldly wisdom and that grace of manner 
which make a man gain an eminence in his profession, 
and succeed in society. Every word he uttered spoke 
the perfect simplicity of his mind, and his total ignorance 
of all worldly matters. He told me that Lady C[aroline] 
L[amb] had been very kind to him. '' Ah ! " said he, 
" there is a deal of kindness in that lady." I agreed with 
him, and though it was impossible not to laugh at the 
strange manner in which she hid arranged this party, 
T could not help admiring the goodness of heart and 

* William Blake [i757*lSS7]» the poet mystic. 

Digitized by 



discrimination of talent which had made her patronise 
this unknown artist. Sir T. Lawrence looked at me 

several times whilst I was talking with Mr. B[ ], 

and I saw his lips curl with a sneer, as if he despised me 
for conversing with so insignificant a person. It was 
very evident Sir Thomas did not like the company he 
found himself in, though he was too well-bred and too 
prudent to hazard a remark upon the subject. 

The literati were also of various degrees of eminence, 

beginning with Lord B[ ], and ending with [ ]. 

The grandees were Lord L[ ], who appreciates talent, 

and therefore was not so ill assorted with the party as 

was Mrs. G[ ] and Lady C[aroline], (who did nothing 

but yawn the whole evening,) and Mrs. A[ ], who 

all looked with evident contempt upon the surrounding 
company. I was much amused by observing this curious 
assemblage of blues and pinks, and still more so with 
Lady C[aroline] L[amb]'s remarks, which she whispered 
every now and then into my ear. Her criticisms were 
frequently very clever, and many of them very true, but 
so imprudent, it was difficult to understand how anybody 
in their senses could hazard such opinions aloud, or relate 
such stories. Her novel of Glenarvon showed much 
genius, but of an erratic kind ; and false statements are 
so mingled with true in its pages, that the next generation 
will not be able to separate them ; otherwise, if it were 
worth any person's while now to write explanatory notes 
on that work, it might go down to posterity as hints for 
memoirs of her times. Some of the poetry scattered 
throughout the volumes is very mellifluous, and was set 
to music by more than one composer. 

I was sorry to learn from Mr. [ ] that Mrs. B[ ] 

is very unwell. He spoke with great affection of her, 
and observed, with truth, that never was there such a 
triumph of mind over a plain exterior as in her. The 
charms of her conversation are appreciated by all, and 

Digitized by 



she is beloved wherever she goes. Lady [ ], who was 

sitting between us at the time Mr. [ ] spoke, suddenly 

observed, d-propos des boUes, as though she were thinking 

aloud, " I wonder Mr. A[ ] did not marry her." I 

replied, I was not surprised that he did not ; for that, 
although it would have been a great match for him, the 
disapprobation he would have incurred from aU her 
family, would have counterbalanced the advantage, 
and that I thought he had shown infinite sense and good 
principle in not taking advantage of her youthful pre- 
ference by availing himself of it. I never knew but one 
unequal marriage turn out happily ; and then, perhs^s, 
it owed its success to the short Ufe of the lady, who died 
before the husband had time to find out his mistake. 
J^rd Dudley came in at the end of the evening, looking 
more absent even than usual ; he hardly spoke to any 
one, but went backwards and forwards through the 
rooms, muttering to himself. Altogether, I never was 
at a more curious assemblage of persons than this party 

Wednesday, 2ist of Jan, — I went to see Lord S[ j's 

collection of pictures. It is a well-chosen and magni- 
ficent gallery. To my surprise I met Miss H[ayma]n 
there, and that meeting distracted my attention com- 
pletely from the pictures ; for we conversed of old times 
at Kensington y and had mutually so much to ask and to 
say about the Princess, that I had no curiosity for any- 
thing else. She informed me that she had heard lately 
from a person, who told her that it was her Royal High- 
ness's intention to come to England very shortly. Miss 
H[ayman] agreed with me in thinking it was too late 
for her to return, and that the time was for ever past 
when she could hope to be of any consequence in this 
country, or to enjoy any happiness. "True," Miss 
H[ayman] replied, " but you know the Princess as well 

Digitized by 



as I do, and when she is determined upon any plan, 
nothing can prevent her fulfilling her resolves." Miss 
H[ayman] spoke with infinite kindness of the Princess, 
and much regretted all the fooUsh things she had said 
or done, giving her full credit for all the noble qualities 
she possessed. " No one," she continued, " ever had 
such an opportimity for the display of almost every 
virtue as the Princess of Wales, and no woman would 
have been so great a heroine, either in public or private 
hfe, as she migfU have made herself, had she acted with 
prudence ; but, alas ! that opportunity of distinguishing 
herself no longer exists, and I fear her end will be one 
of insignificance and unhappiness at best." Miss H[ay- 
man] added, that she had heard a report that the Prin- 
cess had written to Mr. Canning, announcing her return 
to England, and asking his advice on several points. 
" Now," observed Miss H[ayman], " there was a time 
when I beheve he was inclined to be her Royal Highness's 
friend ; but I suspect he will not now espouse her cause 
so warmly as he once did." I asked Miss H[ayman] if 
she believed the story of the Princess having gone many 
years ago to his house, complaining of fatigue ; that she 
remained there, and was confined, and that Mr. Canning 
kept the secret for her. Miss H[ayman] replied, that she 
did not ; that in the first place she was convinced the 
Princess never had been guilty of any of the crimes laid 

to her charge, and also that Mr. C[ ] was too honourable 

as well as too prudent a man to meddle in such matters. 
I asked Miss H[ayman] if, in the event of the Princess's 
return to England, she would again enter her service, 
and she repUed, that if asked by her Royal Highness to 
do so, perhaps she might be tempted, by the attachment 
she felt towards her, to consent ; but that if she con- 
sulted her own feelings, she did not wish to do so, as 
the fatigue and anxiety were too much for her health. 
I was sorry to learn that Miss H[ayman] was to leave 

Digitized by 



town on the following day, so that I could not again have 
the pleasure of seeing her. Miss H[ayman] reverted 
with regret to the Princess having dismissed Siccard 
from her household, saying that he was so excellent and 
trustworthy a domestic, that it was of infinite injury 
to her Royal Highness to have lost his services. 

At length we parted, both agreeing that nothing 
could be said that was agreeable upon this melancholy 
subject, and that it was impossible for any one to con- 
jectiu'e how this strange eventful history might conclude. 
Miss H[a3mia]n, with unaffected and sincere earnestness 
said, " I pray for the Princess constantly." 

Thursday, zznd of January. — I went to a ball at 
D[evonshir]e House. Most of the Royal Dukes were 
present, and all the fine world of London ; yet I did not 
think it was as gay as it ought to have been, considering 
the advantages of fine rooms, brilliant lights, and good 
company. The host himself is as gracious and urbane 
as ever; but he is much aged in his appearance — ^pre- 
maturely so — and his bland countenance is changed to 
a dissatisfied expression. It was curious to observe the 
court that most of the greatest and fairest ladies paid 
this illustrious bachelor. I wonder they are» not all tired 
of wooing so stem an idol ; but I sujppose they never 
will cease this adulation until he selects some fortunate 

person to share his great fortune and rank. Lady H[ ]*s 

daughter was the object of his patronage and favour 
last evening, and in consequence everybody paid her 
attention. She is young and showy-looking, but not 
captivating, in my opinion. 

I heard a curious story from that gossip, Mr. S[ ], 

relative to the C[onyngham] family. It is said that their 
late son married in S[witzerlan]d, and had a child, who 
is consequently the rightful heir to their titles and estates ; 
but that Lady C[onyngham] wishes her second son to 

Digitized by 



inherit these, and therefore has bribed the relations of 

the infant to conceal his birth. Mr. S[ ] added, 

" Dr. S[umner], the tutor to the late Lord [ ], was 

sent to transact the arrangement with the foreigners." 
It was, as he observed, a singular office for him to under- 
take ; but rumour further adds, that he has been promised 
a bishopric, and doubtless. Lady C[onyngham]'s influence 
will achieve whatever she wishes. 

Friday, 25/A. — I received a letter from Sir W. Gell, 
in which he sa3^s — 

I was delighted to receive yours of the [ ], for I thought 

you had quite forgotten that such a being as your slave 
existed. All you tell me of England and London society 
confirms me in my belief that Naples is the only place in th^ 
round world worth living in. At least, one can keep oneself 
warm, and take one's tea, without having scandal told about 
it. I had the honour of receiving an autograph letter from 
the " Princes of Galle," introducing a singer, by name Squal- 
lint or ScaUini, or some such outlandish cognomen, and as- 
suring me that I should find '^ in dis gentleman everj^ing to 
approve and admire, and dat he is just de sort of person 
worthy of my acquaintance." Dis royal epistle " ifUrodudory *' 
concluded by assuring me that " We " were extremely blessed, 
and that I might rely upon " Our " good will and countenance 
— that's a great ting for you, William Gell — praise your head 
thereupon." Fortunately, this said Comte ScaUini was 
summoned hence next day, after having presented his letter 
at my door, by the indisposition of his padre at Venice ; so 
for the present I am spared the pleasure of his acquaintance. 
For the last three weeks my feet and ankles have kept me at 
home ; but I am beginning to shake myself like the flies, 
and to resuscitate, these last few warm days. Pray repeat 
your kindness in writing sometimes to the unfortunate '' con- 
vict," who has been sentenced to transportation by the east 
winds of England, and the keener humour of some of his 

friends. Farewell, my dear [ ], and believe me, most 

truly and sincerely, 

Your humble servant and tame dog, 


Digitized by 



Friday, the 25/A of February. — Mr. M[ ]r caJled 

upon me, and informed me that the Princess of Wales 
had sent for Lady A. H[amilto]n to join her abroad. I 
can scarcely credit the report, for I well know her Royal 
Highness has an objection to the meddling spirit of that 

person. Mr. M[ ] observed, that he considered Lady 

A[ ] was a well-intentioned woman, but certainly 

not a very wise one. " Her conduct," said he, " in the 
affair of the News newspaper was very droll. Do you 
remember what a confused answer she made, and how 
she permitted Lady Perceval to make use of her name ? 
What a kettle of fish those women cooked up between 

them ! The Princess's enemies," added Mr. M[ ], 

"beheved all the parts that could hurt her ; and the 
excuse which was circulated, of the editor of the news- 
paper being mad, was a very lame one, and did not deceive 
many people. Altogether it was a badly managed piece 
of business." In reply to my saying that I thought Lady 

C[ 3y had behaved unkindly to the Princess, and 

Lord C[ ] also, he told me that he knew beyond a 

doubt that the R[egen]t had bribed them ^highly, and 

that Lady C[ 3y, being a weak woman, was compelled 

to obey her husband's wishes ; but that he did not 
consider she was a bad-hearted person, and that she had 
expressed herself frequently in very favourable terms 
of the Princess. 

In speaking of Sir Francis Burdett, Mr. M[ ] 

observed, that although he differed with him entirely 
in his pohtical views, his speeches were noble in sentiment 
and powerful in expression. " I have never," said he, 
** met with any one whose genius was more Shakspearian, 
and which occasionally dehghted me more by the resem- 
blance it bore to that master spirit. In private hfe 
he is not always agreeable, that is to say, he frequently 
appeared to me to be in a dream ; but nevertheless he 
was iris recherchi amongst the ladies, and at the period 

Digitized by 



when I saw most of him at Kensington Palace, his name 
was constantly associated with that of some fair lady. 

On my inquiring after Lord H[enr]y F[itzgeral]d, and 
alluding to scenes connected with Kensington Palace, 

in which he played so conspicuous a part, Mr. M[ 

said, " Ah ! it was a great pity he did not endeavour to 
continue the Princess's friend ; she had such confidence 
in his opinion, that he might have given her good advice, 
and been of infinite service to her Royal Highness ; but his 
lady wife interfered, and prevented his continuing to 
be intimate with the Princess, and then, perhaps. Lord 
H[enr]y himself took fright, and was glad to retire before 
he burnt his fingers by taking any part in her Royal 
Highness's affairs. But it was a cruel disappointment 
to her when she received a letter from him, stating that, 
from motives of friendship towards her, he conceived it 
his duty to relinquish the honour of being so frequently 
in her Royal Highness's society. "Lady [ ]," con- 
tinued Mr. M[ 3, " was the person deputed to deliver 

this letter, and she told me that she never shall forget 
the astonishment and agitation the Princess betrayed on 

reading its tontents. Lady [ -] said she felt much 

grieved for her, poor soul, and almost inclined to be 
angry with Lord H[enr]y for having written such a 
letter. The Princess observed that it was a most " cold- 
blooded worldly epistie»" and looked very indignant for 
a few moments ; but she soon melted into tender regret, 

and besought Lady [ ] to write and implore Lord 

H[enr]y to retract bis determination, and to continue 
to come to Kensington, and remain her friend. It was. 

Lady [ ] said, the most dififtcult and painful letter 

that she was ever called upon to write ; but the Princess 
so earnestly entreated her to do so, observing that Lady 

[ 3 had great influence over Lord H[enr]y, that the 

latter had not the heart to refuse. However, Lady 
[ ] said she supposed it had fallen into the hands of 

Digitized by 



Lady De R[o]5, for that from that time forth she had 
evinced a marked dishke towards her. It was from the 
moment that Lord H[enr]y F[itzgeral]d neglected her, 
that the poor Princess became reckless and imprudent, 
in all that regarded her own interests. You know Lady 

[ ] used to revert to the time when his influence was 

paramount, as to '' the reign of the good Eong Heniy." 

" Would that it had continued ! " added Mr. M[- ] ; 

^' Lord Henry was such an agreeable and gentlemanlike 
person, and he never for one moment forgot the respect 
due to her Royal Highness, or presumed upon her par* 

tiality for himself. Frequently Lady [ ] told me, 

when she was in waiting, and accompanied the Princess 
to Blackheath, they met Lord H[enr]y F[itzgeral]d 
walking as if by accident on the road, and when the 
Princess stopped and invited him to enter the carriage, 

and accompany her and Lady [ ] to Blackheath, he 

always made many apologies for being en deshahille^ 
and would, with true courtier-like respect, make such 
speeches as ' You are too good, madam — I am quite 
distressed to be in such an unfit dress to appear before 
your Royal Highness ; ' upon which the Princess would 
laugh and say, * Ah, yes, my dear Lord Henry, we know 
you are all over shock — ^but never mind, let us make 
happy whilst we can ! ' " 

Mrs. M[ 3 informed me that Lady Qonjmghajm is 

now the reigning favourite of the R[ 3t. Lady 

H[ertfordrs influence is quite at an end. " Indeed," 
said he, " I do not think it was ever very great. She 
was a person of too much reUnue to please him for any 
length of time ; and, on her part, I believe, the only 
reason that made her listen to the Prince's homage was 
vanity. She is a woman of boimdless ambition ; but 
au reste, full of noble quahties ; she is generous, and of a 
most affectionate heart ; but I do not suppose the Regent 
ever possessed any power over her feelings. To give 

Digitized by 



you an idea of her character, she is passionately fond of 

dress,* and when she went abroad she took [ ], the 

great modiste, in her suite, that she might superintend 
her toilette ; so that nothing could be detected wanting 
in her wardrobe, even by the most fastidious French- 
woman. This is her foible, and it is but a very trivial 
one, compared to her many merits. "Decidedly," 

continued Mr. M[ ], "Mrs. JFitzherbert has been 

hitherto the lady who possessed the greatest influence 
over the Prince, and it is to her that his conduct 
was most dishonourable. Such implicit confidence 
and blind credulity did she place in him, that when 
O. B[ridgman3 (now Lord B[radfor]d) went to inform Mrs. 
F[itzherber]t of the Prince's marriage, she would not 
believe it, until he swore that he had been himself pre- 
sent at the ceremony ; and when he did so, she fainted 

I asked Mr. M[ ] if he supposed that the Prince 

had, after his marriage, ever renewed his intimacy with 
Mrs. F[itzherber]t. " Oh ! no," said he ; " whatever 
he might have felt inclined to do, Mrs. F[itzherber]t 
would have scorned such a reconciliation. Indeed, I 
know she once said to a person with whom she was 
speaking in confidence, 'No; the chain once broken, 
can never be linked together again.' " 

Mr. M[ ] laughed at Lord Y[armouth]'s marriage 

with Miss F[agnian]i, and said, "To be sure never 
has there been anybody who had so many fathers — 
Mr. Selwyn, and Lord Queensberry, and the Prince, 

• Hence Moore's lines : 

Who will repair into Manchester Square 
And see if the gentle Marchesa is there ? 
O let her come hither and bid her bring with her 
• The latest " No Popery " sermon thaf s going. 
O let her come with her bright tresses flowing 
All gentle and juvenile, curly and gay. 
In the manner of " Ackermanns* Dresses for May/* 

Digitized by 



all anxious to have the honour of being related to 
her." ♦ 

Mr. M[ 3 wiled away several hours with me, and 

made the time pass very amusingly by his gossip ; but 
in the long-run I should think he would be a wearisome 
companion, for he never speaks of anything but people, 
and has no idea beyond being a good newsmonger. As 
such he is unequalled. 

I had the gratification of receiving the following 
letter from Mr. S[harpe]. 

Friday, igtt February, — ^Deak [ ],^ — I should have 

thanked you for the honour of your most obliging letter long 
ago, had I been able to write with any pleasure to myself, 
(to others, alas 1 1 can give none ;) but I have had the strangest 
juvenile simple sort of disease imaginable, which hath crippled 
my hands in such a woful manner, that still to bend my 
fingers for any length of time gives me the utmost uneasiness. 
Do not imagine that I am talking of what King James called 
too great a luxury for us subjects — our national cremona. 
In truth, there was neither pride nor pleasure to qualify the 
pain of my distemper, which was that nursery sort of evil, 
chilblains. But no boxer's gloves, or bear's paws, can give 
you any notion of my hands, which are still in such a condition, 
that to describe it would excite full as much disgust as com- 
passion. I will, therefore, spare your sal volatile, and proceed 
to the contents of your very kind letter. As to curious MSS., 
there is no such thing here ; no varieties, but dull charters 
of religious houses, and canting lives of Presbyterian ministers. 
Whatever the Bannatyne Club has printed, might as well 
have been left to the rats and mice, which have done more 
good in their generation than they have any credit for ; and 
this dub has had the overhauling of everything here. There 
are no poems but some Latin verses written by young lawyers ; 
and as to letters, I do think the wise people of Scotland never 
wrote any, saving about money, and the secure hiring of 
servants. Letters bring Lady M. W. M[ontagu] into my head, 

* She was the daughter of the Marchesa Fagniani of Milan, and was 
brought up by George Selwyn, who, as well as " Old Q," left her a 
huge fortune. 

Digitized by 



which I now do not confess in public ever to have read, foi 
they are deemed so naughty by all the world, that one must 
keep up one's reputation for modesty, and try to blush when- 
ever they are mentioned. Seriously, dear [ ], I never 

was more surprised with any publication in my life. It was, 
perhaps, no wonder that the editor, my Lord of W[hamcMe], 
cheated by the charms of his subject, might lose his head 
and] in the last volume kick up his heels at Horace Walpole 
and Dr. Cole, and print the letters about Reevemonde, &c. 
But how the discreet Lady Louisa S[tuar]t could sanction 
this, I cannot guess. These pious grandchildren have proved 
aU to be true that was before doubtful, and certainly my 
Lady Mary comes out a most accomplished person. Yet, 
from my rdationship to the M[ontagu] family, I could add one 
or two more touches to the pictiu-e — ^but it is needless ; how- 
ever, this may amuse you, that I have been assured, from the 
best authority, she never was handsome : — a little woman, 
marked vnith the small-pox, and so prodigiously daubed over 
with white and red, that she used to go into the warm bath 
and scrape off the paint like Ume from a wall. It is admirable 
how one may obtain a reputation for wit, beauty, worth, or 
any other good thing, by the magic of a name ! And in truth 
never was there a more striking instance of the truth of this 
assertion than in my Lady Mary W. Montagu. All the 
fame she really merited to have accorded her was that of 
being a shrewd woman of the world, with a quick eye, and 
a cross tongue, that was perpetually wagging against her 
neighbour. It would appear to me that she was but a sorry 
wife to her gudeman, and a very indifierent friend : and as 
to her talents, to judge by the style of her writings, any 
well-bred lady of the present day could produce a much better 
collection, if she were to gather the notes and letters that 
have passed between herself and her contemporaries. Lady 
M[aryJ, fortunately for her, lived in strange places, saw 
strange people, and had every means afforded her that could 
enable a mind of any disc^imient to keep an interesting 
diary, and render her amusing to her country people, who 
had not the same advantages. 

There are three means by which everything can be acquired 
in this world. 

The first is opportunity ; 

Digitized by 



The second is opportunity ; 

The third is likewise opportunity. 

Lady Mary had these, and turned them to the fullest 
account. Of her genius I will not say how little I esteem it, 
lest you should be partial to her ladyship : and, O heavens t 
if you are, I shall already have offended you beyond measure 
by my impertinent criticisms. I crave pardon, and think I 
am most likely to obtain it by ending this babiUage, and 

assuring you, dear [ ], how sincerely I am your faithful 

servant, &c. 

Saturday, the 2jth. — I dined at Miss Lydia White's. 
The dinner party was small, consisting only of Mr. 

S[ ]e, and Sir [ ] C[ '\y and his beautiful wife. 

The latter, however, did not chose to converse. I am 
told she never does, except to gentlemen, think it worth 
while to exert herself to please by talking ; and, in 
truth, her face is winning enough, it is so lovely to look 
upon, without the exercise of any other fascination. It 
is said she is clever and amusing when she becomes less 

reserved. Lady C[ ]y's hand is of the most faultlessly 

perfect form I ever beheld, but her manners are not so 
pleasing as her personal appearance ; they are brusque 
and haughty in general ; yet occasionally, as if to make 
you feel she has the power to charm, when she pleases 
to exert her spells, she assumes a softer demeanour, 
and then her power is complete. Her husband's manners 
are supercihous. Miss W[hite] said to me, in speaking 
of Mr. H[ ], " He has only two subjects of conver- 
sation — ^politics and admiration of beauty ; so that his 
powers are very hmited : and unless the former of these 
topics happens to form the subject of discussion at a 
dinner-party, he has little to say for himself in private 
society, clever as he is in public life." 

Miss White sat with the ladies in the dining-room 
till everybody was nearly asleep. I never saw any one 
f oUow this system of remaining so long at table, except 

Digitized by 



the Princess of Wales. It is high treason to say so ; 
Miss White's house, which is reckoned so famous for its 
agreeable reunions, does not frequently afford me the 
amusement it is supposed to give all those who have the 
good fortune to obtain an entrie therein. At the dinner 
table sometimes, the wits and mighty spirits collected 
round it display their conversational talents; but the 
evenings are often very dull, and I have been present 
at many a piarty, composed of insignificant persons, who 
have sung and danced, and diversified their amusements, 
which have been much more gay^and enlivening than 
the learned and classic meetings hdd at Lydia White's. 

I was introduced to a Mr. S[ney]d, a clever, satirical 
person, one of the Duke of D[evonshire3's prot6g6s. How 
angry he would be if he knew I had cdled him such ! 
He is a gentleman who thinks he is all-powerful ; with 
his own lance of wit, and his arrows barbed with satire, 
he imagines he keeps all the world in awe of him ; and 
he does, I dare say, make many tremble. I do not think 
such a power can be pleasant to the possessor ; but Mr. 
S[ ]d appears perfectly well satisfied with his repu- 
tation for being a censor on men and manners. He 
was very gracious to me, but I felt, all the time that he 
was saying dvil things to my face, that most likely the 
moment my back was turned he would not spare me any 
more than others. When Miss White introduced him 
to me, it was with the following whispered remark — 

" He dissects everybody, my dear [ ], tears them 

limb from limb, and is the most sarcastic person in the 
world ; but he is notwithstanding so clever and kind- 
hfturted, that every one who knows him well, likes him 

" I tremble, dear Miss White," I replied, " for I am 
a timid person, and dread having my flesh peeled off by 
his sarcasm." 

" Nonsense," said she. " Do not pretend to say you are 

Digitized by 



thin-skinned. Come here, Mr. S[ ];" and she beckoned 

to the awfu man, and introduced us to one another. 

In general, or at least very frequently, those who 
are endowed with a spirit of sarcasm, endeavour, on a 
first acquaintance, to conceal their propensity, lest they 
should alarm their new friends ; and they try to make 
their way, by assuming a kindliness of nature not their 
own, so as to make the stranger suppose the world has 
wronged them, by giving them the character of being 
satirical on their neighbours. But I discovered no such 

attempt in Mr. S[ ] ; the first smile, with which he 

prefaced the first words he addressed to me, betrayed 
the characteristic feature of his disposition ; and the 
show of irony with which he observed, " Our hostess 
is a truly ddightful person,'' as his eye glanced with 
disgust toward the unsightly object of his comments, 
betrayed the variance of his words from his inward 
thoughts. I answered with truth, that I thought Miss 
White was, indeed, an agreeable and an estimable person, 
and that she had great merit in the patience and good 
temper which she displayed imder her trials. Again 

Mr. S[ ] sneered, as he replied, " Yes ; but I wish 

she could have some better arrangement made for her 
personal appearance. She always puts me in mind of 
a mummy, or a dead body washed on shore, and swollen 
with the effects of having been for a length of time in 
the water." I could not answer this cross speech, and 
thought those who partake of her good dinners and her 
hospitality should refrain from such unkind remarks 
on her personal calamity. I endeavoured to extract 
some information from this wasp, on other persons and 
subjects, and named the Princesse L[ieve]n as a subject 
for him to play upon. I did not feel the least repugnance 
or scruple in presenting her as game for him to hunt ; 
she is so cross and ill-natured herself, that she would 
be weU matched with Mr. S[ ]d. The latter was very 

Digitized by 



eloquent on the theme I had given him, and he cut and 
slashed at the Princess in great style. In the course of 

his lecture on E[ ]y, he repeated some lines which 

were, as nearly as I can recollect, as follows : — 


Un air d'ennui 

Et de m^ris ; 

D'lme reine de thtetre 

La dignity f actice : 

Des bouderies, 

Des broderies, 

Des garnitures pour quatre : 

Voil^ rambassadrice 

A la f agon de Barbarie. 

expressed my admiration of these lines with such 

earnestness that I appeared to have won Mr. S[ 3d*s 

heart, and he began to grow quite confidential, as he 
told me how the same lady had treated one of the greatest 
ladies in England with such rudeness that the EngUsh- 
woman said she never would speak to the Princess 

again. "At the same time," added Mr. S[ ]d, "it 

is wonderful how, for the moment, this tawdry piece 
of impertinence rules the roost in London society ,| and 
all the fine ladies are at her feet, cringing to her as 
if she were a divinity. It is very amusing — ^nothing 

diverts me more than to observe Ladies [ ] and 

[ ] pa3dng her the most servile court. They must 

all be great fools to be so taken in by a little insignificant 
looking foreigner ; but so it is." 

Mr. S[ 3d talked of Lady C[aroline3 L[amb], and 

made a pun on her name, sa3ang she was not as gentle as 
a L[amb3 he believed ; and from her he alighted on Lady 

H[ 3d» and left his sting on her ; and he would have 

gone on, imparting his venom to every soul in London, 
I dare say, if I had not grown sleepy, and left the party. 

Digitized by 



Monday, the 2Sth. — I received some letters from Italy 
which gave^me great regret, for they speak in such 
disparaging terms of the poor Princess of Wales. In 
one I am told, 

I went the other day to Bossi's, with Mdme. De Stael, and 
I cannot teU you how I was shocked at seeing him. He is 
hardly able to walk, and wholly incapable of holding a pen 
or a pencil. He said to me, the first thing, " Je me meurs, 
et c'est la Princesse de Galle qui m'a tu6." He then told us 
that she wanted him to paint her picture, and desired him 
to draw several figures in different attitudes, that she might 
choose. This he accordingly did. I saw the sketches, and 
they are most beautifully designed. The Princess shuffled 
them over like a pack of dirty cards, and pretended not to be 
pleased with apy one of them. The weather was intensely 
cold ; and as she would insist on coming to sit in his studio 
instead of accepting his offer to go to her house, he was 
obliged to have the room heated to an amazing degree, from 
its size and damp atmosphere, that she might not catch cold : 
so poor Bossi, who you know was already deUcate, worked 
in that to him imwholesome temperature three or even six 
hours a day, till at last it made him so ill that it reduced him 
to his present state. The Princess, he said, laughed when he 
complained of fatigue, and observed, " I am not tired, Signor 
Bossi — 'tis all nonsense ; people do fancy dey cannot do half 
what they can do if they please." Nevertheless, although 
she made him work thus expeditiously, and was in such a 
hurry to have the picture finished and sent home, she has 
never paid poor Bossi : so he is out of pocket as well as health 
by this transaction. I really think the Princess is gone mad. 
I received a summons, some dajrs after my visit to Bossi, to 
visit her Royal Highness at Como, which I obeyed, I must 
own, rather reluctantly ; and I regret to say my visit was as 
unsatisfactory as I had anticipated. The Pnncess looked 
iU, talked in a querulous and restless manner, of wild projects, 
of Uving for the rest of her life in the East, or in Greece. 
" Greece, my dear," said she, *' is a noble country ; I could 
do good, and I think I shall set up my tent there for the rest 
of my days." I asked her if she never meant to return to 
England ; upon which she shook her head, and said, '' No, 

Digitized by 



my dear, it chassid me from its protection, and I will never 
do't de honour of setting my foot upon its ground : besides, 
my daughter is dead ; why should I return to a land where I 
should be worse treated than a stranger ? " I saw it was in 
vain to reason with her Royal Highness. I was sorry not to 
have an opportunity of seeing Mr. Hownham, but he was out ; 
and I was glad to escape from the royal habitation as soon 
as possible, for it distressed me to observe the familiarity of 
certain personages who are quite unfit, in every way, to form 
her Royal Highness's society. The poor Princess is grown 
quite thin, and looks very miserable. Hieronymus and 
Mr. Hownham must be much attached to her, to remain with 
such a person as this impertinent foreigner put in authority 
over them. I was told — ^but perhaps it is not true — ^that 
Willy used to refuse at first to sit in the room with the courier 
and his sister. The Princess informed me that she is goii^ 
immediately to Sicily. Captain Pechell has refused to take 
Bergami on board 1^ ship, so the Princess is trying to get 
another vessel. Poor Willy ran after me into the passage to 
b^ I would bid him good-bye, and he was ready to cry as he 
said, " I wish we were going back again to England." I 
replied, *' I hope you will," and went away as soon as I could, 
Jest the Princess should imagine I was saying anything to 
the boy she would dislike him to hear. I am told this foreigner 
treats all the EngUsh attendants in her Royal Highness's 
service with the utmost impertinence and unkindness. Alas 1 
I fear they will not continue to remain with her Royal High- 
ness, if she does not dismiss this disreputable servant. The 
Comtesse Oldi appears dull and stupid. 

I am sorry to send you such an imsatisfactory account of 
the Princess of Wales's establishment ; but I know you are 
interested to learn the truth, and therefore I have described 
to you exactly the condition in which it appeared to me. I 
am far from supposing that this insolent upstart is on a 
more familiar footing with her Royal Highness than that of a 
spoilt menial; but that is quite sufficient groundwork for 
her enemies to build the most injmious fabrications upon ; 
and I dread the consequences to her, poor woman I How- 
ever, I fed certain that no advice that could be given her 
would she take ; on the contrary, the more she was requested 
to dismiss the Italian from her household, the more decidedly 

Digitized by 



she would refuse to do so. The idea that people persecute 
and wish to deprive him, or any one else, of a good situation, 
would make her more determined to support and protect 
him. The feeling is amiable, but in this instance quite mis- 
placed, and evil must inevitably ensue of her wilfulness in 
retaining him in her service. 

Another correspondent says upon this melancholy 
subject : — 

The Princess of Wales offered me two hundred pounds to 
accompany her to Greece, but I have not courage. If Dr. 
H[olland] had gone, I should perhaps have felt bold enough ; 
but as it is, I so dread the future for her, that I shrink from 
being an eye-witness of, or participator in, allfthe misery 
that I fear awaits her. I think her Ro]^ Highness's partiality 
for these vile Italian adventurers, the Comtesse Oldi and 
her brother, will at last cease. For their interest they will 
not do her any injury, so long as she continues to benefit 
theln ; but when they perceive that she is less favourably 
inclined towards them, they will carry off the jewels, plate, 
&c., that her Royal Highness has with her, and perhaps 
even go the length of poisoning her, that she may not denounce 
them. The Princess has now lost her last English attendant, 

who is gone home with [ ], and her house is full of these 

Italian people's relations. They say the courier is to come 
out as chamberlain presently. He now signs himself Ecudiire, 

and will dine at table soon. [ ] will tell you the lady is 

really his sister, and no more a countess than she is a pope. 
Oh ! it is quite melancholy. I wish some person would write 
to her, and ask her Royal Highness if she is mad, or if she 
is aware what will be the consequence of permittii^ these 
disreputable people to continue as her attendants. What 
provoked me most, was her not putting on a rag of mourning, 
or taking the least notice of her poor brother's death. I do 
not understand the torpor which has apparently crept over 

her feelings. The M[ '\s went to see her, and were un- 

feignedly sorry to find her looking ill, and evidently in low 
spirits. Poor Willy they are very fond of, and he complained 
bitterly of the foreigners, and said they treated him most 
unkindly. I could fill my letter with lamentations on this 
sad subject, but reserve all commentaries thereon for viv$ 

Digitized by 



vdx, when we meet, which, I hope, will not be at a very 
distant period, &c. 

The foregoing letters pained me considerably. Nothing 
but a miracle can avert the destruction of the poor 

Princess ; for Lady [ ], to whom I communicated 

these melancholy accounts, told me she heard there 
were persons actively employed in endeavouring|^to 
arrange a plot against the Princess, that would lead to 
her disgrace. The principal members of this body of 
people appointed to watch her are stationed at Milan 
at this very moment, and highly paid. I asked Lady 

[ } if notice could not be given to the pubUc in England 

that such proceeding were being carried on against her 
Roydl Highness ; and if a timely appeal to the justice 
of this country might not save her from the dire effects 
of a secret inquisition : to which she replied, that un- 
fortunately, though she was well assured of the truth of 
this surmise, as it could not be proved, the matter could 
not be publicly spoken of. I gathered from all she said, 
that she considers the case hopeless, and that evil must 
ensue of the Princess's imprudent conduct. 

In the evening I learnt that the King is thought to be 
djring. It would seem as if all tended to hasten the end 
of this royal tragedy. When he dies, the Regent will be 
vested with unlimited power ; and how fearfully will 
he not make the Princess feel his prerogative ! 

Tuesday, the 2gth, — I received another letter from Mr. 
S[harpe]. Formerly, when he Uved in the world, it was 
less astonishing that he should find matter to draw out 
his shrewd and clever remarks ; but now, when, as he 
himself says, he Uves in complete retirement, and that 
he has only the imaginations of his own mind to furnish 
him with the brilliant ideas that flow from his pen, it is 
doubly surprising to read his amusing letters, every one of 
which seems to contain more fnth than the preceding one. 

Digitized by 



Modern Athens, Thursday, 

Dear [ ], — I should much sooner have done myself 

the honour of answering your letter, had I known, till within 
these two days, whether I was standing on my head or my 
heels. I will not trouble you with long family details, but 
merely state, that though I ofEered to take all the old furniture 
of this house at the highest price, because I would not also 
take the plate and linen, some of my relatives routed me out, 
the very mop-stick was carried ofE in triumph, to be sold at 

[ ] ; and you, who have done me the honour to be in this 

house, and know the wilderness of rubbish which it contains, 
may easily imagine the scene. I verily beUeved that my 
two ancient cats would have gone distracted. They shot 
like flashes of lightning continually from the garret to the 
dining-room, and back again, uttering the most dismal cries, 
and attempted to take refuge under the drapery of the maid- 
servants, who had other fish to fry, and could afiord them no 
consolation. Poll, too, joined his screams to the concert ; 
but my tortoise would have outslept the storm, had I not 
been^obliged to move his basket. When he did awake, how- 
ever,'' he set us all an example of composure, behaving much 
more' like a philosopher than myself, the maids, or the cats. 
I have got sdl I wanted back again out of the hands of the 
Philistines,^but cannot reduce the chaos to any order. It 
is said that when Irish b^^gars, by any chance, are forced to 
take off their rags, they never can put them on again in the 
same comfortable fashion ; and I fear this is my case. But 
too much said of my own affairs. You may be sure, dear 

[ ], that it would be most gratifying to my pride to be of 

any use to your friend Lady [ ], in any shape ; but, alas I 

as to what you mention she desires, I can be of no earthly 
significance. Living as I have done for so many years, what 
could I^see or know ? When I took up my abode here, I 
ceased to exist but in the common sense, like a rat or a toad.^ 
The other day, when I had the painful task of numbering 
all my cousin's books, I chanced to take up Frankenstein, 

and a thought struck me, which I wish Lady [ ] would 

improve upon. I imagine a wife for the monster. Let some 
man of art, hearing of his crimes, compose a wife to punish 
him. I think he should travel far and near, collecting 
the particles of dust of all the most celebrated beauties 

Digitized by 



of antiquity — ^to Egypt, for instance, in search of the 
mummy of Qeopatra. I would have the ghosts of some of 
those ladies to oppose his efforts : surely a good deal might 
be made of this part. After he hath collected a sackful of 
beauty, he mixes up his dust with rose-water, &c., and shapes 
the doU, leaving out all heart, but filling her head with the 
brains of two foxes and an ape. Up she starts, as radiant as 
the morning, beautiful, but without one accomplishment, 
with no cleverness but cunning. The monster makes a for- 
tune in India, and comes to London for a wife ; he falls deeply 
in love with a doll, who loathes the sight of him, but marries 
him with a good grace ; they reside in London, and there 
madame begins to reward his merits ; she gambles, &c. &c., 
he still loving her in spite of all her faults. In this place 
many^amusing London scenes might be introduced, without 
any personaUties, which are always detestable. I would 
throw the monster into jail for her debts, and make her elope 
to France with a young dragoon officer, sending the monster 
a lock of her own and her lap-dog's hair, by way of insult, 
in an ill-spelt letter. Hang the monster in a fit of jealous 
despair. Then, when the doll is walking with her lover, 
through one of the narrow ruinous streets of Paris, in the 
dusk of the evening, a low window-shutter suddenly opens, 
and the fearful head of an old man appears, who blows his 
breath upon her, and quickly closes the window. She sinks 
down at her companion's feet, a dry mass of dust and ashes I 

Pray, my dear [ ], ask Lady [ ] to think on this my 

contrivance, and let me know your thoughts thereupon. 
Perhaps you may like to possess the jeu d'esprit I send 
herewith enclosed. It was written by Sir Walter Scott 
many years ago, when Miss Lewis was staying at Edin- 
burgh with her friend Lady [ ] ; and having made this 

offering, I shall conclude with assuring you that I am your 
faithful, &c. 

The King against Sophia Lewis. 

George, &c., — ^Whereas robbery and murder are, in this 
and all civilised countries, crimes of a high nature and severely 
punishable, especially when aggravated by circumstances of 

Digitized by 



atrocious cruelty, and perpetrated upon persons of distin- 
guished merit and talents ; yet nevertheless you, the said 
Sophia Lewis, are guilty actor or art and part of the aforesaid 
crimes; forasmuch as having associated yourself with the. 

Right Honourable [ ], commonly called Lady [ ], 

professed tyrant and destroyer of the king's Uege subjects 
you did frequent divers assemblies, concerts, plays, sermons, 
&c. &c., and then and there disturb the king's peace and the 
quiet of his subjects, and withdrew their attention from 
their lawful business, amusement, and devotion, and by 
assailing them with certain weapons called charms, both open 
and concealed, contrary to the statutes provided against 
fascination and witchcraft ; and in particular, upon the 30th 
day of January, 1801, or upon the day immediately preceding, 
or following the same, or upon one or other of the days of the 
said month, or of the month immediately succeeding, you did 
violently and repeatedly assault the person of the deceased 
John Ley den, late preacher of the gospel, with the purpose 
and intent of depriving him of his rest, peace of mind, and 
other valuables, of which you possessed yoiurself. And 
although the said John Leyden was divers times heard to 
exclaim in the most pitiful and miserable accents, and to 
complain of your crudty, yet nevertheless you continued to 
torment him with divers weapons, called wit, beauty, accom- 
plishments, &c. &c. ; and particularly with a pair of keen and 
piercing eyes, and having penetrated to his very heart, you 
did most relentlessly extract the same from his body, (he 
crying pitifully all the while for mercy :) And the said John 
Leyden having survived the cruel operation, (being a man 
of great bodily strength and vigour,) did, in consequence 
thereof, become insane and a burd^ to himself and his friends, 
being capable of nothing but of uttering complaints of your 
cruelty, until his compassionate friends had thoughts of 
sending him to the hospital of Coveniry for the recovery of 
his senses. Nevertheless you, Sophia Lewis, did renew your 
attack upon this melancholy object, and did carry him ofiE 

in a postchaise to W[ "], (he being altogether unable to 

resist the violence of your attack,) and there, or at some other 
place to the public prosecutor unknown, did continue your 
assault upon him, forcing him to dance while in this lamentable 
state — a cruelty which can only be paralleled among the 

Digitized by 



savage Indians : In consequence of which repeated barbarityi 
the said John Leyden fainted, sank, and died away : At last, 
time and place aforesaid, the said John Leyden was bar- 
barously robbed, tormented, and finally murdered as afore- 
said, and you the said Sophia Lewis are guilty actor or art 
or part thereof. And there will be lodged in evidence against 
you divers poems, in the handwriting of the said John Leyden, 
all marking the progressive derangement of his understanding, 
and imputing the same to your ill usage ; also a letter ad- 
dressed to the public prosecutor, beginning with the words 
Dear sir, and ending with the words turn over, with a post- 
script in the hand of the unfortunate sufferer, in a language 
unknown. For all which crimes you have justly deserved to 
-undergo the punishment of law, namely, to be attached by 
means of a ring to such person of merit, fortune, and accom- 
plishments, as may be found worthy of being public executioner 
upon the present occasion. Given under our signet at Edin**. 
this 2nd of February, 1802. 

(Signed) Walter Scott, 
Counsd for the King in ihisjcase. 

March 1st. — I received several letters from abroad; 
amongst them one from Sir Wm. Gell. 

Scene — a charming little room with the window open, looking 
out on the lovely bay. Orange-trees, mjrrtles, and flowers under 
my window. The sun shining as it can only shine at Naples. 

Present, an individual dressed in an orange and blue- 
coloured dressing-gown, a red velvet nightcap upon his head, 
his countenance nearly of the same hue as lus gown, perhaps 
a little more resembling a citron colour ; his feet rolled up 
in flannel, and deposit^ on a stool. He exclaims occasion- 
ally with much anger and vehemence, as a twinge of the gout 
makes itself severely felt. 

I'* Now why, say you, put in such an ugly figure in the fore- 
ground, to destroy the beauty of tiie scene ? Remove 
yonder monster out of my sight, you exclaim. But when I 

inform you, dear [ ], that this same unsightly-looking 

personage is your faithful Adonis, I am certain all your 
disgust will turn to pity. Such, then, is my condition at 
this present moment when I have the pleasure of writing 

Digitized by 



to you, and such it has been for this some time past, which 
must account for my not having sooner replied to your last 
kind letter. It would seem, by all the accounts you give, 
that London society is very brilliant at this epoch ; yet 
(though, perhaps, you will not beUeve the declaration, and 
will think it is because the grapes are sour that I say so). 
I do not feel the smallest wish to be immersed in the whirlpool 
of your dissipations. A London life is pleasant enough from 
twenty to thirty, but not after that period — at least not the 
kind of Ufe a poor single man is able to lead — Shunting for 
dinners, and paying court to every stupid person who hangs 
out notice that they give " good entertainment for man and 
woman " ; which good entertainment, by the way, is very 
often exceedingly bad, both as to provender for body and 

mind. If I were as rich as the Duke of [ ], and had such 

a palazzo as he possesses, wherein to receive those I liked, 
and no others, I could exist very well in London for a few 
of the summer months ; but I never would spend a spring, 
autumn, or winter there, in those days when you citizens dwdl 
in an atmosphere of fog and east winds, by which your faces 
are all transformed to a copper-coloured hue, with red noses, 
Uving Uke the inhabitants of the North Pole, by candle- 
light during the greater part of the four-and-twenty hours. 
It is marvellous how any person can prefer such a climate' to 
that of this divine country ; and it surprises me more par- 
ticularly that you, a person of taste and discernment in' most 
matters, should follow the foolish multitude in this wilful 
love of home. It is a pretty notion in fairy tales, wherein 
mention is never made or alluded to of the above-mentioned 
fogs, east winds, and such-like vulgar realities ; — but to put 
the theory into practice is a great mistake. You ask me if I 
shall never return to England. Never is a great word, and I 
may be compelled some day ; but as long as I am a free agent, 
and that there is not a law passed to forbid all the variable 
changes of the British atmosphere, I shall avoid encountering 
an increase of suffering — ^which I should infallibly do« were I 
to expose myself to your northern climate : so I live in' hopes 
that you, and a few others whom I care for, may come here, 
and thus I may enjoy your society|without paying too great 
a price for that pleasure — ^which I should do, by exposing 
my wretched limbs to the cold blasts of England. 

Digitized by 



I heard from the Princess of Wales a few days since, and 
had the honour of receiving a letter written by her own royal 
hand ; but so written, I could only decipher half of its con- 
tents, and was satisfied to guess the rest. Mrs. Thompson 
appears dissatisfied with self and all the world besides^ speci- 
ally with the household ; from which, says she, '' Dere is not 
one to choose better than de oder ; dey have all behaved in 
the most cruellest manner possible to me." Of course your 
himible servant is included in this anathema. No mention 
is made of the present court, by which I judge their reign is 
drawing to a conclusion. Heaven speed its termination, 
though mayhap it may be followed by a worse, and that 
Mrs. Thompson will only fall out of the frying-pan into the fire. 
I heard, by a sidewind report, that the plan fixed upon by 
Mr. Thompson for the maintenance of the peace and quiet 
of the Thompson kingdom, not to mention his own domestic 
felicity, was to propose to Mrs. Thompson, when the elder 
Thompson dies, and that he is succeeded by Thompson, 
junior, to accept a large income, and never to set foot on 

Thompson ground. I do not think Mrs. T[ ] will submit 

to these conditions. There is a deal of spirit in the latter 
which will revolt at such terms, and we shall see grand doings 
yet, I promise you. "The Great Mogul" trembles in his 
sUppers, I know, and is most anxious to retain Liverpool 
and Co. in office, because they have sworn to fight against 
Mrs. Thompson. They are a rascally set, and quite equal to 
obeying Mr. Thompson's most unreasonable commands. 
I hear Mrs. Thompson's health is not so good as it used to be. 
Willikin revolts frequentiy, and hates the Count Hector 
Von Der Ott, so that there are disturbances in " Paradise," 
as Alcandrina denominates the Villa D'Este. I have some- 
times wished I could disguise myself, and obtain an entrance 
into this Eden, to have the fun of seeing how these primeval 
personages pass their time. 

Who is the favourite in the harem of the Sultan just now ? 
Is it, as we outlandish folks hear, my Lady of C[onynghamJ 
that has had the honour of having the handkerchief thrown 
to her ? P ] 

We have few of our country people here at present, and 
unless I could^ick and choose, so as to have those I prefer, 
I do not lament the absence of English folks. Lady D[ ] 

Digitized by 



is one of the few residing with us Neapolitans. She is hand- 
some — ^more I know not of her, save what rumour has been 
pleased to invent, viz. that she once had a black child, which 
being an inconvenient circumstance, the Httle nigger was 
changed, by some hocus-pocus, into a fair flaxen-headed 
infant. Remember, / have not coined this anecdote, and 
am only the speaking-trumpet of report ; which it is very 
imprudent to be by the way, as the poor machine is frequently 
accused of being the composer of the news it repeats 

At whose shrine doth Mr. W[ ]d bend the knee ? and 

does he dress more like a gentleman than in former times ? 
It is said the Duke of G[rafton] torments the Duchess, and 
makes her live up at the tip-top of the house, and treats her 
cavalierly. Now, being but an oflF-sprout of royalty, such 
manners are not seemly ; but I have always remarked that 
these half-and-half people of blood, noble or royal, are pecu- 
liarly grand, and give themselves twice as many airs as the 
original roots and direct brainches of the tree. < 

N Poor Lewis 1 are you not sorry for the Monk ? Some say 
he was poisoned by his slaves. No good ever yet came of 

doing good and generous actions. Rest assured, dear [ ], 

it is quite a mistake to be kind and noble. Tis always your 
mean, selfish people, who fatten and thrive, and come to a 
good end. To think of the poor dear Monk's being thrown 
overboard and eaten by the fish I Truly it vexes me, and I 
am sure so it will you. To whom did he leave all his worldly 
goods ? I suppose to his sister. Lady Lushington. 

And now I must conclude, for my poor fingers ache, and I 
am sure you will be wearied with this long epistle ; so I will 
only add that I am yours with great regard. 

Gelling, alias Anacharsis, Adonis, &c. &c. 


J*ai tant de plaisir 4 recevoir de vos nouvelles, chere [ ], 

que je veux me le procurer, en d^pit des cousins qui m'ont 
presque 6t6 le moyen de vous en remercier, en aliment mes 
mains par leur piqueur : elles sont si venimeuses, que je me, 
sers avec difficult^ de mes doigts. Jugez, d'apres cet effort 
si j'attache du prix k votre correspondence. Cependant 

Digitized by 



teut agr^aUe pu'dle est pour moi, eOe pourroit le d^aiir 
^icore davantage, si dk parvenoit i nous r^procher pour 
I'hiver, quoique mes plans ne soient point arret^, et que j'en 
forme plusieurs qui devrois ^tre sanctionn^es par mon man & 
son retour. Neanmoins j'aim^ois connottre les v6tres, et 
savoir si^ous dirigez tos pas sur la France, Tltalie, ou la 
CMoe. On dit que la Princesse de Gralle y va : eUe a £crit & 
Lord JBxmoutte, pour lui demands un vaisseau sur lequel 
die desireroit s'embarquer, encore une fois, pour revisiter les 
Isles lonidnnes, d'od die iroit passer Thiv^ k Athdnes, et le 
printemps k Ccnistantinople. J'ai appris demi^rement de 
choses par rapport k cette pauvre Princesse, qui m'a fait 
bien du chagrin. EUe a affronU bien des gens ici ; tout oe 
qu'elle fait paroit mal entendu ; tout le contraire de ce qui 
me semble bien pour elle de faire. N'a-t'dle pas une amie 
au monde qui pourroit lui donner des bons conseils? BUa 
m'interessoit tr^ fort ; elle a parl6 avec tant de sentiment, 
par rapport k la mort de sa fille Princesse Charlotte, qu'elle 
m'a yivement touch6. Neanmoins ceux qui la connoissent 
intimement m^emt assure que cette evenement ne lui a pas 
fait soufErir si amdrement, et il m'ont dit qu'elle a le cqeur 
legate et I'esprit frivole. Est-il possible qu'dle m^ait tromp£ 
de cette fagon k la crotre tout ce qu^il y a de plus aimable 
et sinctee ? EUe a beaueoup de eharme dans ses mammies, 
et il me paxoit crudk dans cos dames Angkrises de Tavmr 
teM^ ^handonn^s. Mai§ 011 ne doit pas jipger 4 la b&te de i^ 
condoite d'autrui, e( il oe pent que ces daipes avoient dea 
bonnes raisons pour quitter le service de son Altesse ^oyale« 
Comme Lady Charlotte Lindsay est petillante d'esprit 1 et sa 
bonhommie la rend une des plus atirayantes i)ersonnages que 
j'ai rencontrde pour longtemps. La Princesse paraissoit lui 
£tre bien attach^ ; die doit etre une graade perte pour elle. 
Je me suis trouvfe k un diner hier, auqud j'aurois bien voula 
Yous voir, pour part^ger le plaisir qui m'a fait un improvisa- 
teur cdebre, aniv6 de Rome d^nierement. Lady Dakymple 
m'a fait faire la connoissance de qudques dames de Genes> 
entr'autres celle de Madame Pallavidni, chez qui j'ai 6t6 
invito pour entendre ce po^te. II a chant6 d'abord la mort 
de Petrarch ; ensuite on lui a donn^ ie sujet de Coriolane,[et 
puis cdui d'H^loise sur la tombe d'Abelard. Les Messieurs, 
fatigofoi du tragique» et voulant ^ayer la Soo^ par une 
n 9 

Digitized by 



poesie moins triste, ont demaiid6 des vers sur la dnrfe du 
bonhear conjugal. Donner un sujet pareil devant vingt 
f emmes, etoit bien indiscret ; cependant Monsieur Fidanza 
s'en est tir6 k merveille, commengant avec la description du 
Honeymoon ; mais, sdon mes id6es, ce n'^toit pas bien de 
lui avoir nomm6 un td sujet, et son langage etoit trop Italienne 
pour plaire k des oreilles du NonL La fin m'a moins scanda- 
lise : j'y ai trouvde des belles pensdes, et une toumure 
ingenieuse, fine, et delicate. Toute la soir6e fut charmante, 
et n'a €t6 empoisonn6e pour moi, que par le regret de ne 
pouvoir partager avec vous cet amusement. Savezvous 
que TAboukir k 6t6 oblige d'aller k Malte chercher votre 
ambassadeur, qui revenoit de Constantinople, et qui s'em- 
barque sur ce vaisseau pour aller en Angleterre ? Lady 
Glenbervie a perdu cette bonne occasion de retoumer dans 
ses foyers. J'en suis vraiment troublde pour elle. Bern 
jour, ch&re. — ^Avez-vous eu assez de mon bavardage? 
J'oubliois de vous feliciter sur les brillans succ^ de vos 
armies; rimmortd Wellington s'est acquis des droits k 
la reconnoissance de toute personne bien pensante. 

I was very glad to receive the foregoing letter, for 
Madame D[avidoff] is a most amiable person, and I feel 
a great interest in her fate, which is not so happy a one 
as she deserves. Her husband makes no secret of his 
having another attachment to some lady in Russia, and 
he once told me that he was so miserable at being obliged 
to remain away from his country, that he walked only 
a certain distance every day for health, and never lifted 
his eyes from the ground. 

I dined iHe-A-tHe with Lady C. L[amb] : she is very 
amusing, but her mind is in a sad state of bewilderment, 
and I fear it is likely to grow worse instead of better. 
She ought to be placed under the care of some kind and 
judicious person, before she requires more restraint. 
She clings, poor soul, to any one who is gentle and 
affectionate towards her ; and she has fastened upon me, 
which is troublesome, as she very frequently forces 
herself upon me when I have not time to devote to her. 

Digitized by 



She writes poetry with great talent, and she entertained 
me all the evening we passed together, by reciting 
many of her compositions. She appears to have a 
strong affection for her husband, but, as he is careless 
of her, her disposition, which is naturally aitnante, leads 
her to attach herself to others. Amongst various 
verses, which she insisted on my accepting, she gave 
me the following lines, which she said she had written, 
as supposing them to^ be spoken by the [^Duchess of 
D[evonshire]. j 


Spring, Summer, and Autumn had once a dispute 

Which season among them was most in repute. 

Spring bragg'd of her nightingales singing all night, 

^d her lambkins that ^pt about soon as 'twas light 

Old Summer grew warm, and said 'twas enough — 

That too often he'd heard such common-place stuff ; 

That to him the bright sun, all in ^lendour arising. 

Was an object by few more sublime and surprising. 

" All your pleasures," quoth Autumn, " are nothing to mine ; 

My fruits are ambrosia, and nectar my wine." 

Twas thus that these three were by turns holding forth. 

When rough winds thus roar'd from the bleak frosty nortl 

" Not one of you thinks Winter merits reward. 

Or that Winter amusements are worthy regard. 

You, Spring, brag of nightingales giving ddight, 

Hav'n't I fiddlers, like them, that can warble ail night ? 

You talk, too, of lambkins that prettily skip it ; 

Don't my misses at Almack's as merrily trip it ? 

Then, good Summer, your sun never shines but he scorches 

'Tis not so with my chandeliers, flambeaux, and torches. 

Nay, they're better than sunshine, as some sages say^ 

For they light us by night, as well as by day. 

For you, Autumn, your time in high flavours youVaste j 

As if yoM o&m^ monopolised taste. «^ 

Alas ! in a riband of mine, or a feather. 

There's more taste than in all your fine fruits put together. 

Digitized by 



Add to this, I've lidottoB, plays, operas, drums* 
And assemblies quite private, where all the world comes. 
Fve fine ladies, that bring me the bon-ton from France, 
And gentlemen grown, that are learning to dance. 
All time with the gay but the Winter is lost, 
As a Dutchman is never alive but in frost. • 
Besides, my dear Seasons, I'd have you remember. 
We've now got as iar as the month of December. 
That you. Spring and Summer, ai:e both run away; 
That you, Autumn, won't venture much longer to stay « 
You can't then but own, if you hearken to reason 
No amusements but mine are at present in season. 

Lady C. L[amb] told me she wrote the above on the 
occasion of the Duchess sa3dng she never wished to see 
more of the country than was comprised in the Paries 
in London ; that Chiswick even was too far removed 
from the metropolis ; and that when people complained 
of the latter place being dull, she always replied, " London 
is good enough for me at all times," 

March 2d. — ^To my great surprise, I received a letter 
from the Princess of Wales, giving me a commission to 
execute, which is to inform Lady [ ], 

Que j'ai donn6 1'ordre positive d'arranger mes afEaires pecu- 

niaires, et qu'elle trouvera sa pension chez Monsieur [ ] ; 

et aussi assure la au reste que je serai en tons temps son amie 
bien sincere. »> i^^l^ 

It is better thus, dear [ ] ; I will not express to Lady 

[ ] any disappointment at her having forsaken me, though 

to you I will confess I was much hurt at her for so doing. 
N'importe lii\Ma vie s'6coule lentement mais surement, et 

il y aura fin un de ces jours. Dear [ ] , I may hope for some 

happiness in another wcnrld, auquei je ne m'attends plus dans 

I was §^ to hear from Mr. North that you were wdi. 
Pardon my troubling you with this letter, but I do not like 

myself to address Lady [ ■], as that would f0nou9eler an 

intemmm which I do not wish for to happen. 

Digitized by 



WilliaiD, who knows I am writing to yoa, begs me to 
remember him to your recollection; he always speaks of 
you with the greatest regard, as being so kind to him at 

Adieu, ma cherel croyez-moi toujours votre tr^ sincere 

C. R 

I was nmch tonched by this letter ; it was evidently 
written at a moment of great depression^ and when the 
poor Princess felt to the uttermost the loneliness of her 

fate. She wrongs Lady [ }, however, in condemning 

her for having quitted her service : it was from no 
disrespect or want of attachment to her Royal High- 
ness personally ; but Lady [ ] had other and 

stronger claims upon her, which rendered it absolutely 
necessary for her to resign her situation in the Princess's 

I communicated the foregoing letter to Lady [ }, 

and advised her to lose no time in applying to Mr. [ } 

for the payment of the salary due to her ; since, if she 
delays to do so, the money the Princess had appointed 
for that purpose might be applied to the liquidation of 
some other debt, as I well know her Royal Highness is in 
the utmost distress respecting money matters. These 
horrible foreign servants have been cheating her in 
every way. I was told that several tradespeople at 
Milan had refused to send in goods on her account, if 
only ordered by the Comte Hector Von Der Ott, as Sir 
W4 Gell calls him ; and that, in consequence, the Princess 
had given an order for them to obey this person's com- 
mands to any amount. It is pitiable to think of her 
being in the hands of such dishonest servants ; and were 
I not aware of the utter uselessness of giving her any 
counsel, I would, in my reply, venture to tell her Royal 
Highness the^opinion generally entertained of her estab- 
lishment i but it would produce no good efiEect* Perhaps 

Digitized by 



she will at last become convinced of their rapacity ; but 
then I fear it may not be till it is too late. Therefore, 
although the poor King*s death, it is apprehended, will 
make a great commotion, yet that event is the only one 
likely to induce the Princess to dismiss her present 
household, and return to England : for I think with 
Sir W. Gell that she has still sufficient eneigy left to 
make her endeavour to maintain her position in this 
country. I was told to-day, on good authority, that 
the Regent dreads her coming back to England, and is 
devising all sorts of manceuvres to prevent her doing 
so. People are becoming inquisitive about the Milan 
commission, and murmur very loudly against the con- 
tinuation of these secret proceedings against her. I 
heard that Lord Y[armout]h, the Prince's dcwf friend^ 
let out all his master's intentions on this score, and 
declared that what the Regent wished was, to persuade 
the Princess to accept a large income, and to resign aU 
pretension to queenly dignities, and to promise never to 
set her foot in any part of these dominions. This report 
tallies with what Sir W. Gell had heard ; but then I 
was informed furthermore, that if she is restive, and 
determined to maintain her rights to the throne, the 
Prince will do all in his power to bring her to a triaL 
His ministers are much averse to this measmre, it is said, 
knowing that it wiU be a most dangerous one to them- 
selves, the Prince, and the coimtry. But upon my 
asking if it were possible that he had the means to 
attempt such a scheme, my informant shook his head and 
replied, *'The Princess has been most imprudent since 
she left England, and she has now for some time past 
shut her doors against all the English who waited upon 
her. Of course this circumstance will be laid hold of, 
and people will augur ill from this strict seclusion, and 
imagine the Princess does not choose any person to see 
the footing on which she lives with these Italian people. 

Digitized by 



What reply could I make to such a remark ? what reply 
could any of her friends make, except that it is a pity — 
that they are sorry — ^and that, as aU those do who have 
lived intimately with the Princess of Wales, they must 
know that she often gave occasion for animadversion 
on her conduct by the imprudence of her manners and 
conversation, when she did not deserve censure of a 
deeper dye, and that I imagined the reason of her denying 
herself to English visitors arose from the prejudice 
which she had imbibed against their country people, 
and that she wished to avoid hearing them recalled to 
her recollection, as she conceived herself to have been 
ill treated by many of their nation. When I observed 
that the Princess had mentioned to me having seen 

Mr. N[ ] lately, my informant replied, " Oh ! his 

presence will not do her much good — he is reckoned a 

very gay man." " Mr. N[ ] gay ? " I repeated with 

astonishment. " It is even so," was the reply ; " extra- 
ordinary as it may appear, he is a great heart-slayer." 
He is certainly very agreeable in conversation, but most 
unprepossessing in his appearance ; and so dirty in his 
toilette, that it is not to be believed that any gentleman 
should be so careless in his dress. Only imagine what 
he is well known to have declared to several persons, 
that he "never travelled so comfortably as he did in 
going to Rome on one occasion, when he never stopped 
to change his habiUments during the whole journey." 
I could not help laughing at this anecdote ; but my 
friend appeared to have a prejudice against Mr. 

N[ ], so I do not give credence to his information 

on the subject. 

Lord Fife called on me. He is become much more 
agreeable than he used to be formerly ; for he talks much 
more, and has not acquired any finery by having become 
a great man. He has a Spanish gentleman with him 
at pres^it, who, he informed me, sings delightfully. 

Digitized by 



Lord F. is supposed to be very extravagant, and it is 
said his great fortune will soon be exhausted. 

Lady P[ ] is quite an atUi-princess^ and says she 

knows to a certainty of a daughter she had at Durham. 
She informed me that there is a book advertised, called 
" Perjury and something else refuted/* by her Royal 
Highness the Princess of Wales^ at full length. I hope 
this also is an invention ; for it is beneath her Majesty 
to publish a book about herself ; and yet I am told nobody 
can dare to advertise a book in anybody's name without 
their permission. However, I intend to obtain this 
book, which I believe to be an impositiim, and that I 
may contradict the blockheads who will believe any 
catchpenny, as if they supposed the Princess really wrote 
" The Spirit of the Book." The only reason I have for 
fearing this new production may be sanctioned by the 
Princess, or at least that she has permitted her name to 
appear as the author, is, that she has been tempted 
perhaps by the offer of money, which, as she is much 
annoyed on that score, may have led her to do this 
or many other foolish things^ 

I happened to open Madame De Stall's AUemaginet 
and passed the whole night in reading that delightful 
work over again. The great charm in all her writings 
is, that they are her own thoughts, set down with all the 
force of home-f eh truth ; and any person who has had 
the gratification of living in intimacy with this celebrated 
woman, must be aware that in reading her works they 
are holding conversation, as it were, with herself. I 
heard the other day that she is about to marrry her 
pretty daughter to the Due de Broglie. It is an aUiance 
which pleases her, I hear, in every way ; which I am 
very glad to learn. Mdlle. De Sta^ appeared to me 
exceedingly amiable and fascinating, but far inferior^to 
her mother in point of intellect. She may not be the 
less a happy w(»nan — ^nay» perhaps that inferiority may 

Digitized by 



conduce to her happiness; and bdng the daughter of 
so clever a person, is fame sufficient without desiring to 
gain celehrity in her own person. It appeared to me that 
MdUe. De Stafil had more tenderness of disposition than 
her mother, but less ardout in her feelings — ^less enthu- 
siasm ; and therefore she is more likely to be a happy 
woman than Madame De StaCl. But it always surprised 
me to see how the latter, who is so romantic in her nature, 
was anxions to make her daughter form an alliance of 
interest, without reference to thd choice of her heart. 
It is curious to observe how often those who are them- 
selves the most unworldly and disinterested, seek to 
render others who are under their influence the very 
reverse. I suppose this proceeds from self-experience, 
which has taught them the insufficiency of youthful 
preference, to procure happiness in marriage, when 
unattended by those prudential considerations without 
which there can be no lasting comfort. 

March yrd^^l had the pleasure of receiving a letter 
from Miss V[ ]: 

My dbab [ ], — ^Yoor letters are welcome as flowers in 

May, and refreshing as the morning dew, but trust me their 
effects are not so transient; though the soil that receives 
them is too sterile to yield any return save the poor tribute 
of gratitude. You seem so much interested with the transla- 
tion of " Pastor Fido '* that I shall take the liberty of sending 
it to you, that you may judge of its iherits : not beixig skilled 
in the Italian t(»igue I cannot possibly give an opinion of it 
as ^L.transktiictL, As anything dse, I do not like it, nor ever 
Uked pastocals or pastoral wnHdi^, even of the fifst order, 
farther than as vekddes for fine poetry ; and then the poetry 
would have pleased me better had it spoken for itself, than 
from the mouth of a creature to me so unconceivable as a 
shepherd or shepherdess, whose duef , or rather oniy, charac- 
teristics are imiocenoe and sinqflicity. I amj sorry to fsay 
they are but too apt to be imipkl and unintamtiBg to thcM 

Digitized by 



who mer^y read about them ; as one sees many a jfaoe which, 
though pretty in life, would soon cease to please in a picture, 
while others possessed of far less beauty often form more 
interesting portraits. In short, they are creatures that never 
will have, nor ever had, an existence, and yet, unlike all other 
fictitious creatures, there is no fancy displayed in them ; 
they are, one and all of them, tender, love-sick, or frantic 
amorous animals, as ignorant as savages, and, at the same 
time, as refined as courtiers. It may be owing to some defect 
inmy mind that I really never yet knew an interesting pastoral 
character, or cared a straw whether they hanged themselves 
upon the first willow, or drowned themselves in the neighbour- 
ing brook. I can enter into the delights of Homer's gods, 
and follow to their darkest recesses Milton's devils, and 
delight in the absurdities and extravagancies of Shakspeare's 
men and women, but I never could sympathize in the sufEerings 
of even Viipl's shepherd swains. 

You say you wish yourself back again in tiiie solitude of 
Dovenest ; but I do not wish you there ;" since, in spite of 
all that has been advanced in favour of solitude, it seems to 
me a dangerous situation for an active mind and ardent 
imagination. Seclusion for a while is but a necessary indul- 
gence, since it is beneath the soft wing of retirement that 
grief seeks to shelter itself from the rude gaze of the world. 
Amid the tumults of life it might be extinguished, but in 
retirement it is sure to be stilled into peace. However, there 
is a point at which stillness ends and stagnation succeeds, 
and what was a refreshing sleep sinks into a lethargic stupor. 
I do not presume to say this would ever have been your 
case ; but it seems to me a danger that awaits more especially 
a refined taste and a wounded heart, when left too long to 
their own operations. What some one calls a " fat mind" 
may doze away its days without danger, either in the world 
or out of it ; it runs no risk of having its notions too refined, 
or its ideas becoming too highly elevated. Mere bodily 
blessings axe all it requires, and, provided such persons can 
eat, driiok, and have their being, they seek not the gifts of 
the spirit, or the intercourse of friendship. In short, I agree 
with (I forget who) that says, " To spend one's days in soU- 
tude one must be either above or below humanity." But 
this is a theme far beyond me, and I'm afraid 3rou will think 

Digitized by 



me very presumptuous in having so long molested you with 
the wanderings of my foolish fancy. 

Hy pen, which is my only tongue, goes faster than 
my Uttle slow-footed judgment. If I could bear to write a 
letter over again, I should be tempted to do so on the present 
occasion ; but indolence often makes me reckless of reputation 
and I must therefore throw myself and all my failings on your, 

You bid me teU you what I read ; and, in obedience to 
your commands,n confess myself to be at present under a 
course of historical physic, which ought to have been adminis- 
tered to me*in my youth, and for want of which I have grown 
up under many infirmities. Tis rather late indeed to be only 
laying the foundation, when the superstructure ought to have 
been completed ; but, as I am not very aspinng, nor ever 
expect to raise mine very high, I shall be content if it only 
serves to shdter xne from absolute ignorance. I am there- 
fore labouring hard amongst the ruins of antiquity, tho' 
even amidst their profound recesses I sometimes have a little 
of the dust of modem rubbish thrown into my eyes. The 
truth is, in a town it is very difficult to refrain from following 
the multitude in their pursuits of literature. One is so baiied 
with new books that one is forced to take them up in self- 
defence ; for who would dare to drag forth a huge musty 
volume of Roman antiquities, in preference to an elegant 
little epitome of modem biography ? Do not laugh at xne, 
pray, or suppose that, " sheathed in erudition,'' I'm " plunged 
to the hilt in venerable tomes " ; for I am a very suckUng in 
knowledge, and should certainly not have presumed to enter- 
tain you with a display of my ignorance, had you not desired 
it. When my da3f's task is at an end, I keep my nightly 
vigQs with Young, whose Night Thoughts I do think, next 
to Milton's, the most sublime poem in the English language. 
I know 'tis accounted gloomy, and for those who love an 
eternal glare of sunshine it may be so ; but for such as seek 
the shade 'tis only a refreshing repose. Have you read it of 
late years? I am reading on Sundays ''Morehead's Dis- 
courses on the Principle of Religious Belief," which are 
greatly admired, though I cannot say I think there is either 
much strength or novelty in them. It seems to me as if he 
had taken some of the most striking passages in Seriptore 

Digitized by 



aitd bsai timm am, and worked them up, as a eunmHg aftificer 
does a bit of pure gold 

But to return to " Pastor Fido," with whom I have tiot 
yet finished, — ^I must tell you, that though I (what a great 
authority!) do not take pleasure in this said translation 
of the " Pastor Fido '* of Guarino, many of the wise folks here 
admire it beyond measure. Walter Scott aiid Wilson are of 
these and therefore there must be something worthy to exdte 
the conmiendations of such men as they are, though I cannot 
discorer its beauties. I suppose it is for the reason I already 
mentioned, that to me there is nothing so insupportable as 
a pastoral life. The shepherds and shepherdesses are always 
simpletons and viragoes, and that rule is faithfully adhered 
to in this instance, with the addition of an Arcadian nymph 

But what do I see ? two sheets of fine white paper blotted 
with my scrawl, and the matter not better than the penman- 
ship. Will you ever forgive me for imposing such an endless 
ep^e uppn your patience ? All I will add is, that I delight 
in your letters, and (strange confession for such a bookworm 
as I have made myself appear I) I take especial pleasure in 
all^^thel'gossip and news of the gay world, more particularly 
when narrated by your graphic pen, which sets all the people's 

portraits before me. Your favourite C[ ] has taken up 

Im abode here, but he will not condescend to mix much 
with the people of this town. He is quite out of his element 
in this northern city, where there is little to be seen of the 
sort of society he prefers. But I agree with you in thinking his 
genius unique ; and, if I did not stand in such awe of him, 
should delight in his company ; but he has a tongue sharper 
than a two-edged sword. Have you not discovered this ? 

Adieu, my dear [ ], 

I am ever yotu:s, ftc, 
t ^1. 

I received a visit from Miss Knight. Her presence 
recalled Ken^ngton and the poor Princess to my mind. 
She conversed with sense and kindliness on these topics^ 
bot her exceeding pmdeno* always restrains the ex-* 
pressiofh.^of her feelings, and she appeared avetse t6 
dwelling on the subject. The only remark she made 

Digitized by 



wbicb struck me as smgular was, that in spealdng of tbs 
King's illness and probable decease, she said, she con* 
ceived it would be a fortunate event for the country. 
Miss Knight has a very refined mind, and takes delight 
in every subject connected with literature and the arts. 
She is exceedingly well read, and has an excellent judg-* 
ment in these matters. Being lately arrived from 
Rome, Miss Knight spoke with enthusiasm of the interest 
attached to that classic city. She was intimate with 
Cardinal Gonsalvi, and has a high opinion of his character 
and talents. She said he was more free from vulgar 
prejudices on religious topics than any Roman Catholic 
witii whom she had ever been acquainted, and that his 
benevolence and unaffected piety are admirable. When 
I alluded to the Duchess of D[evonshire]'s influence 
over him. Miss Knight seemed to consider that it was 
an erroneous idea to suppose he was under her sway, 
or any other person's, for that he was particularly in* 
dependent in all his opinions. She said the Pope was 
a most amiable man, but not so cleva: or decided a 
character as the Cardinal. I was much amused by her 
description of a visit paid by a lady to the Prhieess 
Pauline, who received her guest with all the form of a 
royal ^personage. Her conversation was chiefly about 
the English people, and she observed that all the En^h 
gentlemen who had ever seen her were in love with her«-^ 
said she never saw a person who appeared to b^r half so 
conceited or vain as this lady. In speaking of Canova's 
statue of herself, she said,/* 9^ ^^ ^^ flatte pas.'' 

Lady W[ } was at Rome at the time Miss Knight 

resided there, and she was giving tableaux and private 
theatricals, which, she said, were very well got up. I 
alluded once to the poor Princess Charlotte's death, but 
Miss Knight only replied, " Ah, that was a melancholy 
event 1 " and passed on to other subjects. She did not im- 
press me with the idea of lamenting thej^Princess so much 

Digitized by 



as I should have supposed she would have done. But 
perhaps she may, m reality, mourn her melancholy fate, 
and that she only forbears speaking of her lest she should 
say too much. Certainly Miss Knight was very ill used 
by the Queen and the R^ent, and I do not think Prin- 
cess Charlotte liked, although she esteemed her. Bfiss 
Knight was not sufficiently gay, or of a style of character 
suited to her Royal Highness. 

Mr. L[ Jl the painter visited me. He is a con- 

versible, modest person, with just the sort of manners 
suited to his station, and all the varied lore which his 
profession supplies, to render him an agreeable member 
of society. How refreshing it is, even in the busy vortex 
of the gay world, to find some persons who still soar 
above it, and who indulge, with high, unspoiled tastes, 
in all the el^andes of mental pursuit t 

I called at Mrs. [ ]'s. She is just the same person 

that she ever was — a great contrast in character to my 
little artist friend ; for she is busy perpetually with this 
world, and always on the look-out for the high places 
of the earth, longing to attain unto them, and courting 
those who have already gained them. Yet this pursuit 
after worldly influence and worldly aggrandizement does 
not appear to afford her happiness ; for she is always 
grumbling, and speaking in a mysterious manner of 
her misery. She said to me, '' I shall see how things 
are — ^if they go on pleasantly perhaps I shall remain all 
the winter in London — otherwise I shall go abroad 

again." I conclude "^Atfigs" means H[ ] and his 

humours. Poor Mrs. [ } ! 'tis a lonely life after all, 

and harsh ; but it has yet some charms — ^liberty and 
independence. Her wisest way would be to dwell on 
these advantages alone, and to push the d6sagr£mens 
into the background. 

Madame [ ] came in whilst I was with Birs. [ ^J, 

a plain-looking little personage, speoking a sort of German 

Digitized by 



French, with a clever, intelligent countenance, and soft 
eyes, that are not without charm. I am very partial 
to foreigners, and very apt to think them more fas- 
cinating than my own country people. When she left, 

Mrs. [ ] told me a curious history of Madame [ }. 

She was the wife of a dragoman at Constantinople ; her 
husband died, or was killed ; the revolution came, and 
left her in a fine house, indeed, but literally without one 
shilling to support herself. She determined to make the 
best of her situation, Uke a wise woman, and immediately 
conceived the idea of letting her house to lodgers, 
which she did ; and the first person who took it was the 
father of her husband, on whom her fascinations soon made 
an impression, and she succeeded in becoming his wife. 

At Miss [ ^]'s in the evening, I met a very curious 

person ; his profession is that of landscape painter and 
teacher, but his whole mind and soul seems given to 
astrology. He talks of this subject, not as a super- 
stitious folly, but as a deep science, given to man to 
guide himself and his concerns by the stars. I never 
would condemn as a folly that which I have not proved 
to be so ; neither would I readily give belief to what 
I have not examined into, and probably never shall 

examine into ; but certainly Mr. V[ fs manner of 

treating this subject was very extraordinary, and his 
keen enthusiasm extremely amusing. 

Miss P[orte]r, the authoress, was also there : she has 
gentle manners, and an amiable expression of countenance. 
I never saw a countenance more replete with sweetness, 
and I believe her character assimilates to the impression 
her personal appearance convej^, and that she is a 
most estimable person in private life, and '^The soul 
keeps the promise we had from the face.'' 

March 4th. — ^Lawrence had invited me to visit his 
studio, so I went with Lady W[estmorland]. The 

Digitized by 



portrait I^liked most was one of Lady Mdboume, vriaidk 
was very like her, and less gaudy than the other pictores 
hanging in his room. Lady W[estmoiian]d made many 
shrewd remarks on th^n, some of which were not pleasing 
to the artist, and I felt aiitinvatd, but it is impossilde to 
prevent her saying anjrthing which comes into h^ head ; 
and she remained there till I was completely tired^ and 
I am sure so was Lawrence. He offered to show me some 
day his collection of drawings by the ancient masteiB, 
which are said to be splendid. He is alwa3^ polite and 
courteous to me, yet I never can persuade myself to 
like him. 

Lady W[estmorland] called on Lady H[ertford], and 
insisted on making me accompany her, though I told her I 
was not intimate with her, and stood rather in awe of 
her stately manners. Lady W[estmorland] would not be 
persuaded that I had rather not have accompanied her so I 
was forced to comply with her wishes, and was agreeably 
surprised to find Lady H[ertf ord] much less f ofmal than I 
had ever seen her. I should have 8Ui^)06ed Lady W[est* 
morlan]d was the last person who would have suited her, 
but she appeared on the contrary extremely partial to h^ , 
and the visit was, as it usually is by Lady [Westmoiknd], 
prolonged tiU candles were broi:^ht. Lady H[ertfoid] 
talked a good deal upon dress, and had sev^al new hats 
and caps brought down by her maid to show us. This 
confirmed what I had heard of her love for tiie toilet. 
At last. Lady WTestmorlandJ's eye glanced by accident to 
the clock, and, starting up with extreme surprise when 
she discovered the hour, we took our departure. Lady 
Wfestmorland] extolled Lady H[ertfoid] afterwards to 
me, up to the skies, and said she esteemed her first of aU 
those who had ever had influence over the R^ent; 
that she considered her more upright and more disinter- 
ested even than Mrs. Fitffherbert. *' Ah 1 '* said Lady 
W[estmorland], *^ Mrs. ( ] was the wicked one ' she 

Digitized by 


From a mezzotint by I. Scott 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 



was indeed a dangerous woman to have an ascendency 
over the Prince, for she would have sacrificed any person 
or anything to attain her ends." 

Lady W[estmorland] then went on to tell me a story re- 
lated of this lady, which, as nearly as I can remember it, 
was as follows : — ^Twelve gentlemen were dining together, 
and after dinner, in speaking of different ladies, each one 
said he knew a woman whom he considered the most 
wicked person he had ever heard of, or even read of in 
any book. The curiosity being excited of every individual 
present, each person declaring that he was acquainted 
with one such lady, they all agreed to Mnite her name 
on slips of paper, and to put them into a hat, and that 
each one should draw the pieces put in. Accordingly, 
said Lady W[estmorland], they did so, and on every one 
was written the name of the same individual. They were 
exceedingly shocked, added she, and all agreed to keep 
the matter secret ; it was not known for many years, 
I believe, until one of the party present told it, and it 
got wind. 

" Ah ! " I replied, " tot ou taid tout se s?ait." " Very 
true," replied Lady W[estmorland], " yet, Kke all truths, it 
is uttely disregarded, and people act and speak as if 
they never anticipated that their sayings and doings 
would be known." 

In the evening I had the pleasure of meeting Catalini 

at Sir W. F[ fs at dinner. She has very fascinating 

and unaffected manners, quite unlike a professional per- 
son in her whole deportment, very lady-Uke and self- 
possessed, without being conceited. Her voice is much 
pleasanter in a room than it is in the theatres, and it is 
most mellifluous when subdued in its tones ; she is 
altogether a lovely and bewitching sjnren. All the 
gentlemen of the party were in love with her, and paid 
her the greatest homage ; but she does not appear to 
me to have a particle of coquetry, and there is a great 

II a 

Digitized by 



nsuvet^ in all she says. I was told that her virtues and 
exemplary conduct as a wife and mother are equal to her 
talents ; she appeared, from what she said to me, pleased 
with England and the English in general ; but in speaking 

of Lady [ ] and Miss [ ], she did not appear to be 

so partial to them, and called them '^ the stocking blue." 

March 5th. — I was glad to receive a letter from my 

friend Lady [ ] ; she writes with all the enthusiasm 

of her nature, on the beauties of the country through 
which she has been travelling. The style of her letters 
is careless and rambling, but so entirely unaffected and 
genuinely sincere, that I always take delight in receiving 
them. She dates from Milan, and says, — 

Thus much further safe, dear [ ], and well, and well 

pleased in all, except in being so far from you. Every now 
and then that thought comes painfully across my mind ; 
but one cannot reconcile all things, and I hope you will be 
tempted once more to come to the continent. I know your 
destination in that case lies wide of Florence; but yet I 
think I could contrive to make it answer my purpose also. 
Well, so much for hope, now for fact. I left Lausanne with 
[ ] a fortnight since. The road over the Simplon is cer- 
tainly one of ti^e grandest works of man, amid the grandest 
works of nature. It is the finest road, the gentlest ascent, 
over the most rugged and the highest mountains. The sun 
shone brilliantly, and the masses of light and shadow were 
grand beyond all description. I can only say, the sort of 
mental excitement the scene occasioned is ph3^cally fatiguing. 
Strange to say, at the Simplon Inn, we enjoyed the best 
dinner I ever ate. The house is kept by French people ; 
the man is a cook, and I do assure you a first-rate artist ; 
his cuisine would astonish Lord Sefton, and all the gourmands 
in Christendom. It is not true that the road is suffered to 
go to decay as far as Yselle ; that is, as far as the government 
of the VaUais extends ; it is impossible for ansrthing to be 
in better order, and I am told their Government lay out 
fifteen thousand francs upon it every year ; — ^no small sum for 

Digitized by 



so poor and so wild a country. From Yselle, indeed, the 
matter changes, and the shabby pigmy King of Sardinia is 
seen in his works, or rather no works. 

I thought of you often as we journeyed along, and of the 
just admiration which you would experience on passing this 
imperial road. The bridges, the passes through the rocks, 
the good taste in which tiie whole is executed — greatness — 
simplicity — ^power — ^these are the characteristics of this 
wonderful work. From Yselle till within, two or three miles 
of D'uomo Dossola, the wildness of the mountain scene, its 
fierce and savage beauty, is at the highest. Then, as if a 
magician's wand had effected the change, Spanish chestnuts 
of huge growth, vines, and cultivation burst at once upon 
the eye ; the buildings, the people, all are changed, and Italy 
breathes around ; but not till you reach the Lago Maggiore 
is this fully felt. Then indeed the softened beauty of the 
landscape, with all its wonders and all its balm, give perfect 
assurance of the land of promise. The rest of the road (the 
lake once passed) is as flat, as well cultivated, and as rich as 
that from Hyde Park Comer to East Sheen. 

A great rdigious ceremony takes place to-day in my dear 
cathedral, which I regret, for I had promised myself some 
hours of enjojonent in walking about it in quietude, enjoying 
its own impressive grandeur, and no mummery to mar the 
effect. In consequence of this festival, there is no opera 
to-night. The brilliancy of this town, its gay equipages, 
and handsome, well-dressed women, above all, the pleasant 
times I have passed here, make me lament that my stay now 
is to be so brief. Like you, I am fond of that which I know 
well, and habit confirms liking with me, even in my affection 
for localities. I intend to propose paying my respects to the 
Princess, and if she receives me, I will give you a full account 
of all I see or hear of Her Royal Highness. I will write to 
you from Florence. 

Believe me, yours, &c. 

I went in the evening to Lady E[ ]. Her parties 

consist chiefly of card-players, but there is a sprinkling 
of persons who converse, and it appears to me to be 
rather a pleasant house. Lady E[ ] herself is lady- 
like, and does the honours of her house well. I sat 

Digitized by 



beside Prince Cimitelli all the evening. He is accounted 
clever, but, like many people with such a reputation, he 
is a dull, heavy person in conversation. He told me Lady 

E[ ys history. She parted from Lord E[ ] 

nominally on the score of incofnpaUbilitS tPhumeur ; 
" but," said the Prince, in his broken English, " dat 
was not de reason ; " and he smiled significantly as he 
added, " Milord Uke some other person." 

March 6ih. — I received another letter from Mrs. 

[ — ]. 

Dear [ -], — ^My consternation at hearing you had again 

become a denizen of England could only be equalled by my 
anxiety to know how you bide the pelting of these pitiless 
storms. But tho' my ears are always open to everything 
regarding you, all I have been able to gather is that nobody 
has heard of your being ill. But that is not enough to satisfy 
me, who desire so much that you should be perfectly well. 
One hears of new patents for carrying sweet milk, fresh 
butter, roast beef, &c., to the East Indies, and I am in hopes 
the next will be for bringing balmy zephja:s from the Mediter- 
ranean, and sunbeams from the torrid zone. En attendant 
these happy discoveries, I trust the east winds will not visit 
you too roughly, and that the sun will never go off you, to use 
an elegant Scotticism, which, if I had the fancy of Cowley, I 
would have spun into a score of witty, improper, metaphysical 
verses for you. One of the dire consequences of your return 
weighs very heavy upon my conscience. I had the folly to 
write you a letter all fuU of Walter Scott's rhymes, which 
would first travel to Switzerland, and then follow you to 
England, with the whole multiplication table on its back. 
Mr. Wilson is about to publish a dramatic poem called ** The 
City of the Plague." The title is rather alluring in a horrible 
way, and at this season especially, when horrors of every kind 
seem congenial. This is a wild, stormy, snowy day, and I 
feel as if a mental horror would be very relishing; but the 
literature of the present day is not of a spirit-stirring, hair- 
standing sort ; everything now is addressed to the reason, 
nothing to the heart or fancy ; and, in consequence, wcMrks of 

Digitized by 



imagination are really becoming too reasonable to be very 
entertaining. Formerly, in my time, a heroine was merely 
a piece of beautiful matter, with long fair hair and soft blue 
eyes, who was buffeted up and down the world like a shuttle- 
cock, and visited with all sorts of possible and impossible 
miseries. Now they are black-haired, sensible women, who 
do plain work, pay morning visits, and make presents of legs 
of pork ; — ^vide " Emma," which, notwithstanding, I do think 
a very capital performance: there is no story Whatever, 
nor the slightest pretensions to a moral, but the characters 
are all so true to life, and the style is so dry and piquant, 
that it does not require the adventitioiis aids of mystery and 
adventure. ** Rhoda " is of a higher standard of morals 
and very good and interesting. These are the only novels I 
have read these many months. I took a great pleasure in the 
" Antiquary," till I learnt who was the author. It is univer- 
sally believed that it was written by a man of the name of 
(keenfield, once a popular clergjrman, but whose name it is 
now a scandal to mention. Have you read Paul's Letters ? 
Partial as I am to the author, I confess I was disappointed. I 
believe they are very just and well written, and profound ; 
but they really are not very entertaining. A man of genius 
must feel sadly trammelled, methinks, when confined to 
matters of fact, especially of modem date. This book, 
however, is much admired by persons of taste and judgment ; 
so, I suppose, it is my vicious inclination for high colouring 
that has destroyed my capacity for relishing plain sense. 
I received a letter the other day from our mutual friend 

Lady [ ^]^ requesting me to mediate for her with the 

publishers here, respecting the sale of a manuscript for her. 
In the days of my youth I had a most extraordinary passicHi 
for anglings and the only drawback to my enjoyment was 
when I caught a fish, and felt it writhing on the hook and 
flotmdering at the line. Then I threw down my rod, and 
gave myself up to all the horrors of remorse. Now these 
self-same feelings I had not of late years experienced, till I 

received Lady [ ]'s last letter, and I had no sooner read 

it than I was assailed by all my quondam fishing pangs ; 
for I beheld her on the tenter-hooks of suspense, and felt her 
pidling ai the Kne with all her might and main. I therefore 
instantly despatched a note to Mr. Millar, requesting him to 

Digitized by 



call upon me. But, alas I I had neither hook in his jaw nor 
line at his ear, and, after repeated applications, I have only 
now been able to obtain a private interview with him ; so 

that Lady [ ] will think me the greatest dawdle (to use a 

woman's word) in this wide world. I wish the result of our 
conference had been more satisfactory ; but, alas 1 it is only 
what my grey imagination foreboded. He said it was quite 
out of the question to put a value upon a work until he had 
seen it, for that solely on the merits of the book the price 

must depend. When I spoke of Lady [ Ys name as being 

worth thousands in itself, he shook his head, and repUed that 
it would indeed excite a strong sensation, and cause a tempo- 
rary run upon the book ; but that was not enough ; unless 
it was likely to become a standard one it was impossible to 
give a large sum for it. With regard to Miss Edgeworth, 
Madame D'Arblay, and those heroines of romance, he said 
their publishers could venture to give them almost carte 
blanche, for their names were now so celebrated, and their 
fame so firmly estabhshed and so widely diffused, that before 
their books were printed there were thousands and thousands 
of copies bespoke, besides large orders for America and the 
Continent ; so that one must not take these literary Goliahs 

into the question at all. Mr. [ ] told me they were the 

publishers of " Self-control," and had sold between four and 
five thousand copies, besides its being still in requisition. 
They next bought " Marian," without reading, but upon the 
assurance of Mrs. Hamilton (the authoress) that it was the 
very best novel she had ever read. They printed eight hundred 
copies of it, and only sold three hundred. In short, I 
got such a complete history of the uncertainty of authorship, 
that I have resolved never to make a trade of it. Walter 
Scott is flourishing like a palm tree. It seems as if one was 
an evil spirit to venture to express any fears lest his literary 
prosperity should ever diminish, but, somehow or other, no 
author ever yet died rich.* I trust he may be an exception 
to his unfortunate brethren ; but is it not true that authors 
of the greatest merit have seldom ended their days in plenty 
— I mean those who depended on their talents for gain as well 
as fame ? I am bound by every tie of gratitude to pray for 
this great man's continued success in his labours, for he has 

* What a curious prophecy ! [Original note.] 

Digitized by 



treated me with the greatest condescension. I can never 
repay the debt of thankfuhiess I owe Walter Scott, for this 
noble act of his benevolence. 
You who rejoice at others' weal will be glad to learn Miss 

[ ] has at last obtained her heart's desire, and is married 

to Mr. [ j. Their love has mutually borne a long and 

trying test, and every one who knows them rejoices at its 
happy reward. You will be tired to death of this interminable 

letter, dear [ ]. 

Pray pardon yours, &c. 

I went in the evening to Lady SaUsbury*s. Her 
assemblies are certainly the best of their class in London. 
The house is like a nobleman's, and the hostess herself 
has such dignified manners that they cannot fail to be 
courtly receptions. But all assembhes that are merely 
show, without the amusement of music or dancing, are 
dull in the long run, and, after an hour or two, I always 
feel very tired at such parties. What amused me most 

was to observe how Lady [ ] courted the foreign 

ministers, and specially the royal Duke of [ ], whom 

she followed from room to room as if she had been his 
attendant in waiting. This servile homage succeeded 
in its object at length, and the Duke offered her his arm, 
to which she clung for the rest of the evening, and com- 
pletely monopolized his attention. But I cannot help 
wondering that a woman of her rank and charms, mental 
and personal, should condescend to seek in such a marked 
manner for the attention which she should command 
d moins de frais. The strangest part of her character 
is, that she has two characters ; the real one leads her 
to pay her court to Kings and Princes (and would to 
Queens, if there were such things going, for she did once 
pay great attention to the Princess of Wales, until she 
thought the extinguisher was put on Her Royal High- 
ness's worldly consequence), and the false or assumed 
character makes her pretend to despise potentates and 
love independence. But the latter is only a mask to 

Digitized by 



bide arrogance, and to obtain power in her own person, 
rendering, if she could do so, every other woman insig- 
nificant. Tis a strange choice for a person who has a 
position marked out and decided, from which nobody 
can displace her, to be perpetually pursuing the world 
with whip and spur ; — 3, thing only excusable in a par- 
venu or a lady of demi-fashion. I suppose it arises from 
a want of excitement, which, to some minds, is as necessary 
as food to the body, and a trivial object answers the 
purpose to some persons as well as a better. 

It appears to me as if it were more the fashion than 
formerly for married ladies to flirt in this town of London, 
at the balls and assemblies. It is a dangerous amusement, 
to say the least of it ; for like children playing at a sham 
fight, which often ends in a real quarrel — ^that which was 
at first sought as a diversion becomes an interest. How- 
ever, such considerations are the afiair of those concerned, 
and I think it is very wrong to allow oneself to comment 
thereon ; for very often, I am sure, the earnest conversation 
one sees passing between people in a public party may only 
be relative to some other party, or a gown, or book. 

Mr. R[ ] wandered about the rooms at Lady 

Salisbury's all the evening. I should have hked to have 
known all his thoughts on the scene whereui he was 
moving like a clever spy. People who know him well 
say he is kind-hearted to those he likes ; but to me there 
is something very tremendous in the hone)^ phrases 
he utters to every one, accompanied, as they oftai are, 
by a smile of most malicious import. 

Lady G[ ], Mrs. S[ ys sister, is beautiful, and 

I took pleasure in looking on her countenance ; it has 
such a sweet and pure expression that it stood out from 
all the host of faded and hacknied faces of the majority 
of the assemblage of persons present there. 

March ph. — I received a pretty letter from Mrs. Grant, 
authoress of "Letters from the Mountains," &c., in 

Digitized by 



answer to one I had written, requesting her to patronize 
the work of a person in whom I take an interest. 

Dear [ ], — I ought sooner to have acknowledged your 

most valued present, had I not been anxious to gather some 
opinions of more importance than my own, regarding the 
performance, particularly those of the Rev. H, Walker and 
Morehead. These I have not yet obtained, but from what 
I hear from others I have no doubt of their being satisfactory. 
Of the excellence of the devotions in the httle volume you 
were so good as to send me, there cannot be two opinions, 
drawn, as they are in substance, from the pure wells of inspira- 
tion — those sacred scriptures in which we have eternal Ufe. 
Those graces of style which a person of literary acquirements 
and refined taste can always command, are not essentially 
necessary to edification ; yet we read it as a recommendation 
of apples of gold, that they are set in pictures of silver, and 
a certain degree qf embellishment was considered appropriate 
for the sanctuary. 

Your friend has, however, judiciously avoided all studied 
or meretricious ornament, and suited her language to the 
weight and solemnity of the subject. Sincere and zealous 
meditations must be, in all cases, instructive, but coming 

from a person Uke Mrs. [ ], who has not only moved in 

the highest circles of society, but been still more distinguished 
for all the charms and talents that most attract admiration, 
they are not merely instructive, but in no common degree 
admonitory ; they say to the young, the gay, and beautiful, 
those before whom the world opens all its stores of fascination. 
Behold a person whom all dedighted to praise, to whom all 
these attractions were famihar, has found refuge from all 
these dazzling vanities, in the serious and solemn preparation 
for an unchangeable state, in that futurity towards which 

we are all hastening. I fed, dear [ ], gratified by the 

partiality which you express for my writings. You would, 
more than many others, be much influenced by the subject 
so often alluded to, of Highland scenery and manners. You 
could scarcely be impartial in this instance. 

I remain yours, respectfully and faithfully, 

Anne Grant. 

Dated loi. Prince* s-street, Edinburgh, 

Digitized by 



By the same post I received an answer to a second 
letter I had addressed to Mrs. Grant : — 

Dear [ ], — Having determined not to sleep without 

acknowledging the letter you did me the honour to write (and 
for which favour no apologies were necessary), though my 
answer must be brief, and, I fear, unsatisfactory, I proceed to 
say that I am very willing, to the best of my fading abihties, 
to attempt, at least, to comply with your expressed wish in 

behalf of Lady [ ]. But tiiough my heart is still warm, 

and the true secret of my Uterary success, the love of nature 
and of truth, remains undiminished, the chill of fancy and the 
decay of a memory once singularly retentive, leave me small 
hope of success. Yet I must know how soon your friends 
thmks to conclude, or, in other words, how long I may defer 
my attempt to cast my mite into the treasury of her rich 
stores, — ^that I may first clear my conscience of some un- 
answered letters, or, if your friend's work is very urgent, 
defer them. I have two reasons for earnestly desiring that, 
if I do contrive to send an}^thing she may think fit to accept 
as a humble tribute of the respect and admiration I feel 
towards her, it may never be known to be mine. I have 
refused others whom I wished very well, and would not be 
thought at this time of Ufe to go out of my thorny and sombre 
path to gather flowers, even to weave them into the fairest 
garland. They are often heaven's favourites who die young. 
Your prot^6 is the less to be lamented, as, though a blame- 
less creature, there was no path in life open to him which he 
would have been well qualified to occupy. You will excuse 
my blunt address and total want of ceremony. I almost 
forgot in my haste the common courtesy due from your very 
respectful and faithful servant, 

Anne Grant. 

P.S. — I send you some lines written by Mrs. Barbauld, 
and I beUeve not published. The subject is interesting, and 
the feeling which prompted them mournfully pleasing. 
Perhaps they might be acceptable to your friend. 

Digitized by 



On the King^s illness, September 1811, by Mrs. Barbauld. 

Rest, rest, afflicted spirit ! quickly pass 

Thy hour of bitter suffering I rest awaits thee 

There where, the load of weary life laid down, 

The Peasant and the King repose together — 

There peaceful sleep — ^thy quiet grave bedewed 

With tears of those who loved thee. Not for thee. 

In the dark chambers of the nether world. 

Shall spectre kings rise from their burm'ng thrones. 

And point the vacant seat, and scoffing say. 

Art thou become like us ? O not for thee. 

For thou hadst human feelings, and hast walked 

A man with men, and kindly charities, 

E'en such as warm the cottage hearth, were thine ; 

And therefore falls the tear from eyes not used 

To gaze on kings with admiration fond. 

And thou hast knelt at meek Religion's shrine 

With no mock homage, and hast owned her rites 

Sacred in every breast, and therefore rise 

Affectionate for thee the orisons 

And mingled prayers, alike from vaulted domes 

Where the loud organ peals, and rafted roofs 

Of humbler worship. Still remembering this 

A nation's pity and a nation's love 

Linger beside thy couch, on this the day 

Of thy sad visitation, veiling faults " 

Of erring judgment, and not will perverse. 

Yet O I that thou hadst closed the wounds of war I 

That had been praise to suit a higher strain ! 

Farewell I the years rolled down the gulf of time. 

Thy name has chronicled a long bright page 

Of England's story ; and perhaps the babe 

Who opens, as thou closest thine, his eyes 

On this eventful world, when aged grown, 

Musing on times gone by, shall sigh and say. 

Shaking his thin grey hairs whitened with grief, 

" Our fathers' dajre were happy." Fare thee well. 

My thread of life has even run with thine, 

For many a lustre, and thy closing day 

I contemplate, not mindless of my own, 

Nor to its call reluctant 

Digitized by 



Now life's stormy morning for ever is past. 
And the still hour of evening approaches at last ; 
It comes breathing peace where no pleasure is found, 
Tis the juice of the poppy that lulls all around. 
No bright setting sun does his splendour unfold. 
No horizon wide flushing with purple and gold. 
All shorn of his beams sinks the great orb of day. 
And nature is clad in her mantle of grey. 

magical fancy I thy empire expires. 

All withered thy flow'rets, extinguished thy fires ; 

Thy talisman broken, exposed to the view 

Stands the desert of life, where the garden once grew. 

Sensibility, syren who lures to destroy. 

Adieu to thy anguish, adieu to thy joy. 

Thy look was enchanting, thy soft voice deceived, 

And, as nature's best bounty, thy cup I received. 

1 tasted — ^no words can its sweetness impart ; 

I drank — ^it was poison that flowed to my heart ; 
For light swim the pleasures, but deep in the bowl 
Lie the struggling emotions that harrow the souL 
Indifference, 'tis true that in life's giddy mom 
I ever repulsed thee with petulant scorn ; 
Yet now to a level, as thou lead'st the way. 
Sinks the path late so rugged I shrink to survey. 
Methinks 'tis most sweet on thy breast to repose. 
Scarce heeding the current of life as it flows. 
Till nature in peace shall drop into the tomb. 
Which thou hast already despoiled of its gloom. 

From Monsieur Sismandi. 

Vous avez eu la bont^ en partant de m'encourager i vous 
6crire quelquefois, et cependant il s'est 6covi6 d6ji bien long- 
temps depuis que je vous ai vu entreprendre ce voyage, qui 
ne vous causoit gudre moins de tristesse qu'k ceux que vous 
quittiez, et je n'ai point encore profits de cette permission. 
Je ne sgais si vous pourrez comprendre cette esp^ce de d4- 
couragement, qui me d^o^lte de mes propre pens<6es, qui me 
fait redouter de porter ma tristesse vers les autres, et presque 
de chercher dans mon propre coeur pour revStir de mots les 
$entimens p^nibles qu'il recdle. Mais j'ose croire que, qudque 

Digitized by 



QEzpHcation que vous donniez k cet abattement, dussies vous 
le confondre avec une Jargon commune. Vous ne croires 
jamais, vous ne soupgonnerez jamais que je vous suis moins 
vivement attach^. Nous nous sommes trop bien entendu ; 
j'ai trop vivement senti ce charme inexplicable de votre 
caractdre, qui se r6pand sur ceux qui vous approchent, qui 
les rend heureux de vous voir, de vous entendre, de sentir 
ct de parler avec vous, — ^pour que cette impression s'efface 
jamais ; et je le crois aussL Vous m'avez assez connue pour 
ne pouvoir entretenir de doute sur mes sentimens. Mais 
que puis-je dire qui ne soit pas empreint de ma profonde 
tristesse ? et cependant est-il juste d'en fatiguer les autres ? 
La victoire des rois sur les peuples; des pr6}ug6s sur les 
id6es libdrales ; des petites vanity sur les nobles sentimens, 
p^ de partout sur moi ; il n'a pas de pays oti je n'en vois 
les fatales consequences, pas de jours que je n'en soufire. 
Les joumaux de tout le continent, ceux d'une moiti6 de 
I'Angleterre, font horreur; tons les livres qu'on imprime 
tiennent im langage rebutant, et professent comme principe 
ce qui avoit long-temps et6 r6put6 I'exc^ de la ddraison. 
La society que j'aimois en France est divis^ par des haines 
forcen^. Beaucoup de gens que je connois sont dans les 
prisons; ici tout esprit social est d6truite; Tintol^rance 
d'opinion fait des progrte proportionn6s k ceux de la sottise ; 
je vais k peine dans le monde, et je n'y passe jamais deux 
heures sans en rapporter une impression pdnible. Combien 
j'ai lieu de regretter ces heureux soirdes que je passois avec 
vous I Mais je n'avois pas besoin de ce contraste pour les 
trouver charmante, et vous s^avez si je n'ai pas toujours senti 
quelles devroient 6tre pr^ferr^ i tout. J'avois destine six 
mois k travailler k Gendve, et i y amasser des mat^riaux pour 
les emporter en Italie ; ma tiche est k peu pr^ accomplie. 
Depuis que j'ai quitt6 Copet, je n'ai pas ce^ de travailler 
de six i huit heures par jour, et je porterai en Toscane I'^bauche 
des quatre demidres volumes de mon histoire; c'est dans 
quinze jours environ que je compte partir, en sorte que c'est 
k Peseta en Toscane que je vous prie de me r^pondre. lA 
je vivrai dans une profonde solitude ; j'y aurais pour soci6t6 
essentielle ma mdre, dont I'esprit et le coeur pr^sentent, il 
est vrai, d'immense ressources. Mais tons les autres ne sont 
nuUement en harmonic avec moi, et il faudra que je renonce 

Digitized by 



k parler jamais ou philosophie, ou morale, ou littdrature, ou 
politique, ou religion — aucun de ces sujets auqud la pensfe 
s'attache dans le naufrage de nos esp6rances, aucun de ceux 
que je trouvois tant de douceur 4 discuter avec vous. La 
pens6e est contreband pour Tltalie. Ni leur Education, ni 
leur gouvemement, ni leur religion, ne permettent aux Italiens 
d'en approcher. J'aurois ardemment d6sir6 d'engager les 

[ ] d'aller-en Italie en meme temps que moi ; je sentois 

que je pouvois leur etre fort utile, et elles auroient dt6 k leur 
tour pour moi d'une prodigieuse ressource. Elles m'en ont 
long-temps flatt6, et puis elles ont chang6 d'avis, sans qu'il 
Itt possible d'en donner une autre raison qu'une indecision 
inexplicable. Dans cette solitude cependant, si j'ai moins de 
distraction, je verrai aussi moins de choses p^nibles, j'y 
vivrai d'avantage avec mes amis absens, je me nourrirai plus 
long-temps de leur lettres : c'est vous dire combien les vdtres 
me seront pr^cieuses — combien eUes seront dfeir6es. Dans 
un temps oh T Italie est peupl^ d'Anglois, je sentirai aussi 
vivement le plaisir d'en voir qui me seront address6 par vous, 
qui me parleront de vous. J'ai bien peu de chose k leur 
o£Erir, pour les d6dommager de venir me chercher dans ime 
petite ville ; mais elle est situ^ dans un pays ddlicieux ; je 
le connois bien, et tout au moins je ne serois pas un mauvais 
Cicerone. J'y passerai probablement toute une annde; ce 
ne sera qu'au printemps que je reviendrai k Gendve, pour 
retoumer k Paris, et imprimer la fin de mon histoire, 4 la fin 
de I'automne de la meme annfe. Madame De Stael a eu 
dans son voyage d'ltalie un succ^ plus heureux qu'on n'osoit 
s'en flatter pour elle. La sant^ de Monsieur Rocca est infini- 
ment meilleure,et un second hiver pass6 danslesud achevera 
de le r^tablir. On attend le Due de Broglie d'heure en heure, 
peutetre est il arriv6, et apres avoir pass6 quelques jours k 
Copet avec Auguste De Stael, il doit continuer sa route, pour 
aller ^pouser Albertine k Pisa. Vous en entendrez parler 
peutetre aussi k Monsieur de Constant, qui ne doit pas tarder 
de passer en Angleterre, et qui a, je pense, I'honneur de vous 

connoltre. N'oubliez jamais, ch^re [ ], que dans la tris- 

tesse et le d^ouragement, comme dans le bonheur, je ne 
puis me d6f aire de ce ■ sentiment si vif et si respectueux que 
vous m'avez inspir6. 
GsNi^, ce 20 Fevrier. 

Digitized by 



September is<, i8zo. — ^Since I last wrote my Diary, 
many strange and unlooked-for events of a public nature 
have occurred, and my own private existence has also 
been replete with matter of painful excitement, on which 
I have not the courage to dwell ; there are passages in 
life of which we would gladly efface every trace. 

The pubUc event which has most interested me per- 
sonally, and also, I believe, excited the greatest emotion 
in the hearts of the British people, is the untimely and 
cruel fate of the Queen. — ^AU her friends had long dreaded 
that she would place herself in jeopardy by the foUy of 
her conduct, and their fears proved but too weU founded. 
Her Majesty was displeased with me, owing to the 
misrepresentations of a mischievous busy-body, and 
we had had no intercourse for some time previous to her 
return to England. But I ventured through the medium 
of a trusty person to send the Princess the following 
advice, namely, to discharge all her foreign attendants, 
male and female, and to return without further delay to 
England. Greatiy to my surprise, she followed my 
coimsel, and on the 6th of June last she reached London. 
She was upon the whole well received ; a very strong 
feeling existed in her favour, notwithstanding the many 
acts of imprudence which she had conunitted since her 
departure from this coimtry. Very soon, the proceedings 
in the Houses of ParUament conmienced against Her 
Majesty, and then followed that memorable trial, which 
is a blot never to be effaced from the history of the reign 
of George the Fourth. Had he been himself a faultless 
husband — ^had it been from a respect to virtue and moral 
dignity that he instituted such charges against his consort, 
and had recourse to such degrading means to substantiate 
those charges as that of hiring suborned witnesses, — 
even in that suppositious case, it may be asked, are we 
to do evil that good may ensue ? But as the fact really 
stood, the King should have been the last man in the 

Digitized by 



world to denounce his wife as guilty ; and the con- 
sequence of his doing so induced the general belief that 
his conduct was the result of private hatred. It wotdd 
seem as if Heaven also considered it in the same light ; 
for though strong evidence was brought against her— 
though she was proved to have been guilty of very great 
imprudence, and want of decorum, both as a woman 
and a queen — she was virtually pronounced by the laws 
of the land innocent of the crime with which George the 
Fourth charged her. Minor errors were lost sight of in 
the one overwhelming fact, of her being acquitted of 
the great offence. * The Queen's conduct throughout the 
trial was of a very high order of moral cou^rage, and the 
undaunted temerity with which she met the charges 
made against her, was a strong proof of her innocence. 

No guilty person could have had the audacity to 
challenge examination into their conduct in the manner 
she did ; and the result of that famous and infamous 
trial M^as the greatest triumph a woman accused of such 
a breach of virtue ever attained. The manner in which 
she was treated during the whole of the proceedings 
accorded with that pursued during the previous years 
of her residence in England. Every indignity was shown 
her by the King, and no residence, or any of the common 
decencies of life, were provided for her, much less those 
suitable to one who by birth and by marriage claimed 
alliance with the British Crown. Nothing could be more 
unwise than this display of inveterate hatred in minute 
concerns ; for it showed the nation by what a malicious 
spirit she was persecuted, even to the death, and it only 
served to rouse a deeper feeling of pity in the public 
mind, towards the object of such malevolence. 

Mr. Brougham, whatever had been his intentions on 
firsi undertaking the management of the Princess of 
Wales's affairs, had gone too far in the business to 
retreat without dishonour ; so that, not to mention any 

Digitized by 



feeling of interest which^he now took in the Queen of 
England's cause, apart from mere worldly motives, his 
own success depended on advocating her side as skilfully 
as he could ; and once being determined to use his utmost 
exertions in her service, the talents to do so were not 
wanting in him, and he displayed the most consummate 
power and eloquence in his speeches on this trial. Cer- 
tainly, the Queen was in a great measure indebted to 
this extraordinarily clever man, for the brilliant ter- 
mination of that investigation. The King was all- 
powerful. The Queen destitute of any patronage or 
influence whatever. Her daughter, the object who 
might have been supposed to have rendered her more 
interesting to the nation, was dead ; consequently, the 
warm support and protection shown her by the nation 
at large, was a noble proof that the English people en 
masse are a disinterested race, and fear not to espouse 
the cause of the oppressed, or take the weaker side against 
the strong and the powerful. 

Many of the peers, and also other private individuals, 
who had entertained the strongest prejudices against 
her Majesty, hastened to congratulate her on the 
termination of the trial. But though she had had the 
courage to go through that trjmig scene with the utmost 
fortitude, and though her spirits had never for a single 
moment, either in private or in public, sunk beneath the 
weight of suffering imposed upon her, still when the 
trial was over, and that she was acquitted,* she did not 
evince the satisfaction which might have been expected ; 
she appeared worn out in mind and body. The deso- 
lateness of her private existence seemed to make her 

^ A squib ran thus : — 

Most gracious Queen, we thee implore 
To go away and sin no more ) 
But lest this efiort be too great. 
To go away, at any ratei 
tl 8 

Digitized by 



very sorrowful ; she appeared to feel the loss of her 
daughter more than at any previous moment, and she 
wept incessantly. Perhaps bodily weakness and over-: 
exertion had some part in occasioning this gloom. 

On the last day of the trial, when requested to retire 
and take some refreshment, she peremptorily refused 
to do so, and on some persons offering the Queen refresh- 
ments which they had brought for their own use, she 
declined accepting them, saying, '' I can take a chop at 
the King's Head if I am himgry ; *• — alluding to the 
tavern bearing that sign near the House of Lords. There 
was much ready wit in that reply, but it was, perhaps, 
iU-timed, and she was never afterwards heard to make 
a joke, or seen to smile. The injuries and unkindness 
which she had so long borne with admirable patience, 
had at last crushed the elasticity of her disposition, and 
the loneliness of her fate appalled her. 

Once again she made a struggle, and an ill-judged 
one, to enforce her rights, and to be present at the coro- 
nation of Geoi^e the Fourth. But unless she went in 
her proper place to that ceremony, she would not have 
condescended to go at all. In that instance, also, the 
King showed a very shallow judgment, and betrayed his 
personal dislike to her ; since she had been publicly 
proclaimed fit to share his throne, and bear the name of 
Queen, he should have permitted her, if only from poUcy, 
to sit beside him at the coronation ; he should have 
stifled the feelings of the man, and treated her with 
the assumed courtesy of the monarch. It would have 
passed current with many for a better feeling, and 
gained him popularity ; but he did so dislike her, that 
even he, who was a proverbially poUte and courtly 
prince, could not assmne civility towards the Queto. 
She very foolishly attempted to force an entrance within 
the Abbey, and was repulsed by the common soldiers. 

The persons who attended the Queen at the latter 

Digitized by 



end of her life were faithful and attached to her, but 
they were not persons calculated to give her the best 
advice. She endeavoured, poor, unhappy Princess, to 

amuse 'herself, but as [ ] informed me, she took no 

pleasure in anything. She once saw Prince Leopold, 
and his manner was affectionate and feeling. From all 
I ever heard of him, he is a good-hearted man, but timid 
and self-interested, and he was kept in such order by* 
the King, that the only visit he ever paid his mother- 
in-law was in secret, imattended, and without any 
^tnesses, except the Queen's lady. 

A very short period elapsed between the trial and the 
Queen's death. Her illness was sudden, and she was 
for some hours ignorant of her danger. When she 
became aware of her awful situation, she called to some 
of the attendants and said, '' I foigive all my enemies, 
I owe no one any ill-will, although they have killed me 
at last ; " or words to that effect. A curious circumstance 
occurred whilst she was on her death-bed, the night or 
rather the morning on which she expired. A boat passed 
down the river, filled with some of those religious sect- 
arians who had taken peculiar interest in her fate ; they 
were pra3nng for her, and smging hynms as they rowed 
by Brandenbui^h House ; and at the same moment a 
mighty rush of wind blew open all the doors and windows 
of the Queen's apartment, just as the breath was going 
out of her body. It impressed those who were present 
with a sense of awe, and added to the solemnity of the 

Thus died Caroline, Queen of England. Her fate 
must excite compassion in the sternest hearts ; yet 
doubtless her premature decease was ordained in mercy. 
Her life, as far as hmnan beings could judge, would not 
have been a happy one had it been prolonged. Divested 
by the King of the pomps and pleasures of royalty, she 
was at the same time debarred from the enjoj^nents of 

Digitized by 



private life ; she had no relatives who cared for her, 
and, from what I knew of her nature, she was warm- 
hearted, and would have pined without some object to 
love and be loved by ; so that her death was a happy 
release from loneliness and persecution. 

The King's malice followed her to the grave, and the 
most indecent measures were resorted to in the arrange- 
ment of her funeral. The Queen's remains were not 
permitted to lie in EngUsh groimd, and objections were 
even made to her being buried at Hanover. Finally, 
however, her body was suffered to be placed in the 
vault of the royal family at that city. But the crown 
and insignias of Toyalty on the cofiBn were taken off, 
and I have been told that nothing but her name, " Caro- 
line," stands to record who Ues within that narrow 
house. The candle that is taken into that royal mauso- 
leum to show the visitors the coffins, has always been 
placed on hers, so that the velvet is covered with wax, 
and otherwise soiled. Thus do her remains, even in 
the grave, meet with the same disrespect she endured 
throughout Ufe ; but her spirit, I trust, is at peace, and 
happy in the world above. I say and fed this from the 
bottom of my heart, and so ends probably the last 
mention I shall ever make of the Queen. If during her 
Ufe she often gave cause for censure (in as far, at least, 
as appearance warrants), in her death she commands 
respect and sj^npathy ; and it will be for the page of 
the future historian to decide how far her virtues were 
her own, and how far her follies were occasioned by the 
force of circumstances, and the cruel treatment she 
received. In making this smnmary of her character 
and her fate, one feeling alone predominates, which is 
that of pity for her sufferings. 

Digitized by 



Digitized by 


Digitized by 



February 6<A, 1810. 

IT is ages, my dear [ ], since I have heard from 
you : pray do me the kindness to write to me 
soon, and enliven the dulness of my sojomn here, 
by some of your eloquence. I saw yesterday an 

old friend of yours, Lady [ ]. I believe it is fifteen 

years since we met. I have never before seen her since 
her marriage. I do not find her at all altered ; indeed 
I think her pretty now, and I did not as a girl think her 
so. Her eyes are lovely ; to be sure that is her only 
beauty. She inquired much after you, but appeared to 
be in very low spirits. She talked with anxiety and 
feeling about her husband, who is again going to leave 
her to follow his trade, and has not yet recovered the 
Walcheren fever. 

Doubtless, my dear [ ], you have heard of the 

overwhelming calamity which has happened to Lord 
Auckland's family. About three weeks ago his eldest 
son, Mr. Eden, a young man of twenty-two, in perfect 
health and spirits, and highly prosperous as to worldly 
affairs (he possessed a place for life of two thousand per 
annum), went out at nine o'clock from his father's house 
in Old Palace Yard, and, saying he should return in an 
hour, he has never since been heard of. Hitherto every 

search has been made in vain : not a trace is to be found. 


Digitized by 



People imagine he is drowned ; but you may suppose 
de grief of the unhappy parents on dis melancholy oc- 
casion. Yet our friend Telemachus could not resist 
making a pun on this funebre event, and said, " Oh ! 
dey ought to look for him in Eden ; he must be there." 

I had a party last evening, and much lamented your 
absence ; for it was more agreeable than such assemblies 
are in general. I had the Persian ambassador, and the 
two Deshays danced and Catalan! sung, and all de folks 
appeared to be pleased, so I was satisfied. I like to see 
people look content, which they do not often do in this 
country, I must say. My better half, or my worse^ which 
you choose, has been ill, I hear, but nothing to make 
me hope or fear. 

Pray bum this piece of high treason^ my dear [ \ 

Lord Byron did inquire for you also, I must not forget 
to mention. He was all cotdeur de rose last evening, 
and very pleasant ; he sat beside me at supper, and we 
were very merry ; he is quite anoder man when he is 
wid people he like, and who like him, than he is when he 
is wid oders who do not please him so well. I always 
tell him there are two Lord Byrons, and when I invite 
him, I say, I ask the agreeable Lord, not the disagreeable 
one. He take my plaisanterie all in good part, and I 
flatter myself I am rather a favourite with this great 

And now I must release you, my dear [ "], from 

this long epistle, after telling you that I am pretty well, 
and try to fight with de blue devils^ which alas ! often 
get the better of me. However, I am always — sick or 
well, gay or sad, — 

Your affectionate 

C. P. 

Digitized by 



The Princess of Wales to the same. 

Dear [ ], — The first intelligence I must give you 

is of [ ], who, you will be glad to leam, is safely arrived. 

The next is a piece of news, which I have just heard, 
which will, I know, shock you. Mrs. Dufi is dead, in con- 
sequence, it is entirely beUeved, of the bite of a favourite 
dog, who was mad. I have not seen anything of Us 
poor lady for so many years, that I feel more indifferent 
to her death than I should otherwise have done ; besides, 
she was very ill-natured about me : my lord and master 
having bound Mr. Duff to his service, and made him 
swear hatred to me, he of course made his wife think as 
he did ; but all those who knew her, said she was truly 

Nothing can be more duU, dreary, and dismal than 
London. People do nothing but croak ; and I am 
almost tired of asking them to dinner, they are all so 
cross and melancholy. Now, as I am both myself, I 
would wish to get a few bright spirits around me. 

I-2tdy [ ] is returned from the Hoo in raptures 

of all the people she met there ; amongst whom were 
Mrs. Sheridan, with whom she is amaringly satisfied, 
and cries up her singing, and everything belonging to 
her. Then there was also Mrs. Wilmot there, the lady 
who models so well, and whose flying and djnng horse 
are reckoned so admirably executed. 

Thom. Sheridan, I hear, is gone abroad, dying. I 
never knew much of him ; for he also was one of the 
great Mahomed's favourites, to whom, by the way, the 
latter has not behaved with the most loyal bounty, or 
steady friendship. 

As to mysdf, I have nothing agreeable to tell you, 

dear [ ]. I hear plenty of ill-natured stories, put 

about by dat old witch, de Queen ; but I say to dose 
who tell them» You do me no good by repeating those 

Digitized by 



reports. You do not gain favour with me either by so 
doing, I assure you. I hate gossips ; and those who 
really wish me well, will not seek to make me unhappy 
by repeating the malevolent speeches of my enemies. 
When I answered Lady Oxford in this fashion de oder 
day, she did look quite ibahie, and ashamed of herself. 

'Tis true, my dear [ ], 'pon honour, I never wish to 

be told these things. I know them to be said. I know 
quite enough, God knows, and wish never to know more, 
if I can help it. 

I think Mr. Gell must be in love, or else he is seized 
with this general epidemic of gloom ; for he hardly 
speaks at all. Mr. Lewis I have not seen for a month. 
I heard he had been wooed to Carlton House ; but I do 
not believe it, nor do I think the Prince would suit him, 
or he the Prince : but perhaps I am mistaken. All de 
gay part of London assemble at the Priory, where there 
are private theatricals going on with great dclat. There 
are two young couples staying there, — Lord and Lady 
Aberdeen ; Mr. Lamb and Lady Caroline are, I am told, 
patterns of conjugal affection, admiring each other, and 
never happy if absent from each other one half hour. 
I should like to see these theatricals, but the Marquis 
has not asked me to his house this year. The wind is 

not blowing kindly towards me, my dear [ ], from 

any quarter, so I must expect to be slighted ; and I try 
to be philosopher mats ce fCest pas si facile. 

I have not yet seen poor Roscius. It is the fashion 
to abuse him as much this year as it was to praise him 
up to the skies last season. I feel sorry for this child. 

Lady Sheffield proposes leaving me on the plea of 
ill health. I have my suspicions dot she has been made 
to quit my household ; but not one word of this, if you 
please, to anybody. I shall regret her rather; but it 
does not put me au d^espoir. She is not half so agreeable 
as her sisters, and I have some one in my eye whom I 

Digitized by 



should prefer. But, my dear [ ], there is a crael 

influence at work against me, and he would like to prevent 
anybody of qualite being about me. 
Adieu, and believe me to remain, 

Ever most devotedly yours, 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

Dear [ ], — I am in a state of rage being just 

returned from a visit to the Queen who received me in 
a most cavaUer manner. Luckily I restrained myself 
whilst in her august presence ; but I could have abused 
her gloriously, so angry did I feel at the old Beguine. 
I will not submit again in a hurry to such a reception. 
She never asked me to sit down. Imagine such a piece 
of ridiculous pride ! And when I asked after my poor 
dear imcle, and said I should like to see him, she made 
me for answer, " The King is quite well, but he will not 
see you." I repUed, " Madame, I shall ask his Majesty 
himself ; " she said noHng, but smiled her abominable 
smile of derision. 

Talking of kings and queens, I heard the other day, 
from a lady who lives a good deal at court and with 
courtiers, that a most erroneous opinion is formed in 
general of the Princess E[lizabeth]. The good humour 
for which she has credit is only an outward show, and 
this is exemplified in her conduct to the poor Princess 
A[melia], who is dying ♦ — quite given over, though her 
decay may be slow and tedious. The Princess M[ary] 
and S[ophia] are devoted to her ; but Princess E[lizabeth] 
treats her with the most cruel unkindness and ill-temper. 
So much for court gossip. Thank God, I do not live 
with them ! Everybody believes Princess A[melia] is 
married to Mr. F[itzro]y, and they say she has confessed 

• She died 2 Nov., 18 10, aged twenty-seven. 

Digitized by 



her marriage to the King, who is miserable at hifi ex-* 
pected loss of his daughter, who is his favourite ; and I 
do not wonder, for she alwajrs appeared to me the most 
amiable of the whole set. So she is destined to be taken 
away. WeU — ^perhaps it is as happy for her^ poor Hng, 
that she should ; for there is not much feUcity, I believe, 
amidst dem all. When I left the roydl presence, I thought 
to myself, You shall not catch me here again in a hurry. 
No, truly, I would rather have noting to do with de royal 
family, and be treated as a cipher, than be subject to 
such haughtiness as I was shown to-day. 

I have let out all the ebulUtion of my wrath to 3rou, 

chfere [ ]. Do not repeat it, though, for the more 

said, the less easy is it to mend matters ; so bouche doscy 
and heart cased in iron ; and the Princess de Galle may 
be able to Uve in dis uncivil pays, only sometimes it is 
necessary to open de safety valve, to let some of one's 
feelings escape, or else I should be suffocated. 

Farewell ; croyez-moi toujours voire tris-sincire amie. 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

My dear [ ], — The Rawdons are not with me, 

owing to some balls and masquerades, but I hope next 
Sunday they will come till Wednesday. 

There was yesterday a breakfast at Lady Dartmouth's 
upon the heath. I had only the benefit of hearing the 
Staffordshire band, as I was neither invited, nor would 
I have gone ; for I hate people who change towards one, 
according as de sun shines upon one, or withdraws his 

I am on the point of seeting out for Kensington to 
meet my daughter ; for which reason I have only time 
to add, that I am afraid I did not explain myself weU in 
my la3t letter on the subject of Mr. E[ \ the booK^ 

Digitized by 


From an engtaving: n/ter a miniature by A. Robertson 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 



seller in Fleet Street ; and since that time I have farther 
heard, that he is certainly paid by my enemies to write 
some trumpery catchpenny book against me ; for which 
reason I am more anxious than ever that our plan should 
be put into execution, to be an antidote against the 
poison which is to be propagated from ear to ear this 
winter. I thank you also a thousand times for the letter 
of Telemachus, which has been very amusing to me, and 
am happy to find that he is in spirits, knowing that he 
had been so unwell for some months, but having the 
happiness of writing to you has given a new zest to his 
spirits and to his poetical effusions. 

I have heard that Mr. Crawford Bruce has left Lady 
Hester, and that he is expected every day in England ; 
I have also been told that Lady Hester is now quite 
devoted to the French nation, and has given up the 
English for it. 

The advertisement in the papers which you saw in 
the evening paper called " The News," is nothing more 
or less than owing to threatening letters that have been 
addressed to different members of the present administra'* 
tion, that they are to meet the same fate of Mr. Perceval* 
The reward is two himdred guineas ; but the anon}maous 
will not give his name till the money is paid. 

This is the whole of my budget of news to-day, and 
believe me. 

Your most sincere and affectionate, 

C. Pj 

Dated Saturday, October zisU 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

Dear [ ], — I can never sufficiently express how 

thankful I am to you for finding me a house. Mr^ 
Siccard goes this morning to speak to Mr. Hugh to have 
it brushed up and cleaned immediatelyi that in th« 

Digitized by 



course of ten days I may call it my own house ; I shall 
put some of the furniture from Kensington belonging 
to me into it, to make it a little more comfortable. To 
be sure, I do not like the situation of the house ; but, as 
I have no choice, I must take the first house I can meet 
with. Your description of the one in Stratton Street 
has much amused Lady Glenbervie and Lady Charlotte 
Lindsay. I dare say it strikes the prudish Lord Archibald 
the same as you, that he will not allow his sister to lose 
her character in that pretty bower. She intends to sell 
it for two thousand pounds. I hope you have been 
much amused in town at your waltzing parties. Mrs. 
Beauclerck was so fatigued that she could not bring her 
tired limbs to Blackheath to-day. I did not much regret 
her, as she was last Wednesday dreadfully out of humour. 

I have seen nobody, except mayors of Rochester and 
town-clerks, and such pretty men, that I am sure they 
would have been an entertainment to you to have seen 
them. Some resembled Dutch burgomasters, others 
were like aldermen, so fat and jolly-looking. They were 
all very civil to me, and did me respectful homage. Yet 
I was very tired of their fine speeches, and felt it beaucoup 
d^honneur mats peu de plaisir, to be set up in state for 
three hours receiving their addresses. Joan of Arc was 
in waiting, and looked very grand. She is a good 
creature, and I believe attached to me very sincerely ; 
but oh ! mein Got, she is wearisome sometimes. Job 
wo]jld have got into a passion wid her, I am sure. 

Addio for the present. May all good attend you, my 
dear. C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

. My dear [ ], — I am much shocked to be under the 

necessity of so soon encroaching upon your leisure hours. 
You will be sorry to hear that Mr, S, L.. Bernard has 

Digitized by 



broke a blood-vessel, and the faculty have ordered him 
to go almost immediately into the country for his recovery. 
But as his place in the War Office keeps him so confined 
that he is never able to breathe the fresh air, his family 
is anxious, if it were possible, for him to obtain the 
situation of barrack-master, which is imderstood to be 
in the gift of Mr. Arbuthnot, in the environs of ten or 
thirty miles from London ; as the close confinement, 
and the very laborious appointment he holds under 
Government, would otherwise soon put an end to his 
existence. You will, I am sure, therefore, be kind 

enough, my dear [ ], to write in my name to Mr. 

Arbuthnot, to wish him joy on his nuptials, and as I 
trusted he would be in good humour to grant my request, 
that the first vacancy which may occur in the department 
near London, in the place of barrack-master, would be 
given to Mr. Bernard. I understand that Mr. Arbuthnot 
is at this moment at his new imcle's. Lord Westmoreland's, 
at Apethorpe. I must also mention that Mr. Bernard 
does not wish to have his present situation taken away, 
until he is certain of another ; and the business at the 
War Office being so great now, he cannot venture to ask 
leave of absence for several months ; and he is imder 
the apprehension in that case to leave his present situation. 
I venture to hope that my request will be granted by 
Mr. Arbuthnot ; pray let me know as soon as you receive 
his answer. 

Lady Oxford, poor soul, is more in love this time than 
she has ever been before. She was with me the other 
evening, and Lord B3n:on was so cross to her (his Lordship 
not being in a good mood), that she was crying in the 
ante-room. Only imagine if any one but myself had 
discovered the fair Niobe in tears ! What a good story 
it would have made about the town next day ! for who 
could have kept such an anecdote secret ? 

Believe me for ever yours, C. P. 

Digitized by 



Th$ Princess of Wales to the sa$ne. 

Dear [ ], — I was happy to learn your safe arrival 

at [ ]. I have no news to tell 5^u, except Mademoiselle 

(de) Grammont's marriage to Lord Ossulston.* The 
Devonshires speak of it as certain. The wedding clothes 
are bought, and the young people are desperately attached, 
and pledged to each other. The opposition of the father, 
Lord Tankerville, however, still continues, and the 
ceremony has been twice put off after the day was fixed. 
Of scandal there is an abundance afloat as usual, and I 
suppose some of these reports have reached you. Indeed, 
that makes me almost fear to repeat them, lest it be to 
you a twice-told tale. But I take my chance of this. 

Much is said of Lord T[ ]n's attentions to the young 

Duchess of R[ }i. Lady T[ ^i is evidently very 

sad, poor woman ; and her husband's attentions are 
certainly not directed towards herself. 

The report about Mrs. Siddons and Lawrence I alwajrs 
thought most shameful, and never beKeved it, and rejoice 
that it is proved to be false. 

Lord L[ ]n, has made, I am told, great offers to 

Miss H[ ]n, the authoress, to tempt her to undertake 

the superintendence of the education of his children. 
If she consents, they will be fortimate, should she be but 
half as sensible as her excellent book on education. 

Lady L[ Js desertion of her children and husband 

once so beloved, is disgraceful. 

There is at present one universal topic of conversation 
in London — the young Roscius, and but one opinion 
about him, that he is an extraordinary creature — and 
exquisite actor — and, for his age, a prodigy. People 
quite rave about him, and the houses overflow ; but I 
have not yet been to see him. I seldom fed curiosity 

* They were mamed 28 July, 1806, which shows that this, like 
many of the other letters in this book, was misplaced* 

Digitized by 



to see what all the world are mad about. I have a 
spirit of contradiction in me» which makes me feel I 
^onld very likely differ from the multitude in my opinion 
of this phenomenon. Adieu, ma ch^e, forgive my long 
prosCy and believe me, ever your attached 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

My dear [ ], — I hope you will be able to dine with 

me to-morrow, as I have got together what I trust may 
be a pleasant party, if the people chuse to be agreeable ; 
but that is always a doubtful question — so often pleasant 
folks are very dull, and stupid ones the contrary : the 
last exert themselves to do their petit possible, whilst the 
others, with greater means, will not condescend to pour 
out of their abimdance. However, let us hope all the 
wits and wise heads I have collected for my Httle party 
to-morrow will be communicative ; and do let me have 
the pleasure of your company, chftre. 

The Duchess of Gordon's is the only house open just 
now, and people are all so busy about de tiresome poHtics, 
dey think of noting else. Lord Gwydir and Lady 
Willoughby are here, till the government is settled. 
There is anoder examination of the ph5^icians by the 
Privy Council to-day, and Parliament meets to-morrow 
tod will not adjourn till something is settled. Some 
people think the King will die, others that he will remain 
as he is ; but at his age a complete recovery is not to 
be hoped, though the royal family have most wonderful 
constitutions. As to me, no changes, I feel sure, will 
make any difference in my lot ; so I remain very in- 
different to them all. The world is decidedly cutting 
me, right and left, since my poor uncle's relapse. Mais 
que voideZ'VOUs .^-r-'tis the way of the world. 

Miss Owenson ♦ makes a great sensation at the Prioiy, 

* Afterwards Lady Morgan, 
n T 

Digitized by 



I hear she is pretty, and she sings, dances, and performs 
all sorts of feats. 

Au revoir, dear [ ], 

And believe me, yours affectionately, 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

Friday, Blackheath. 

Dear [ ], — ^Here I am again, in the solitude of 

this sequestered place. I foimd it useless to remain in 
London, for every one has fibwn away, the poor King's 
increased illness having put a stop to all gaieties. Every 
body thinks he is going to die. Though he is not able 
to befriend me, yet I shall feel more desolate still when 
he is gone, and there will then be no restrictions on the 
tyranny of the R^ent. 

I am not a coward, dear [ ^], and tink I could bear 

most suffering ; yet I felt my heart smite the other day 
when I read a curious letter, sent me by an anonymous, 
written well, and full of fearful predictions as to my 
future fate. I cannot suppose why it was sent me, since 
de writer asked for no money or bribe, nor appeared to 
wish me evil, but rather to lament my fate. 

Amongst other things it contained, the writer said, — 
when I was Queen I should not be suffered to remain at 
Kensington, for that that would be too near the other 
Court ; and meaning, I suppose, that two Kings of Brent- 
ford could not reign peaceably together. My informer 
also said they thought I might very likely be sent to 
Holyrood House, and play the part of a second Mary 

Queen of Scots. What tink you, dear [ ], of this 

strange intelligence ? 

Every body except me is longing for the change, and 
hoping they know not what from the poor old King's 
deatht The Duchess of Gordon is at home to whist 

Digitized by 



players, au teste, there is not a door open in London, I 
believe ; and people have disputed with Taylor about 
the opera subscriptions, and there has only been two 
operas, with nobody at them, as none of the boxes are 
taken this year. In short, aU is bauleversi, and Heaven 
knows who or what will set things in order again. 

So old Queensberry ♦ is dead at last ! I had a weakness 
for him, and so I believe he had for me. I hear General 
Wemyss is to have a lawsuit with Lord Wemyss about 
the succession, which he thinks he has a right to. The 
Duke's disposal of his money is very confused, and there 
are so many revocations, after he has left the legacies, 
nobody knows who has got anything. Lord Yarmouth 
gets the chief part, or rather his chire moitii. 

I have been much tormented lately by the advice of 
different friends — some commending my plans — some 
abusing me and telling me I was ill-advised, and my 
time iU-chosen for bringing forweird my wrongs. Think 

of Miss [ ] telling me de oder day that the rojral 

family never abused me ; I laughed in her face and said, 
" Does it not rain ? " pointing out of the window when 
it was pouring : she looked very foolish, and held her 
tongue ever after. Yet, do you know, though she talked 
nonsense, I have been thinking also that every body is 
so busy about the war just now, and Government is very 
strong, so that perhaps it would be well to reiifer mon 
ipingle du jeu till the question of the Catholics, East 
India Charter, &c., is decided, pour mieux sauter, and 
shall consult wiser heads than mine thereon. 

People can't attend to minor things. The King may 
die, or there may be a peace, or a destruction of the 
" Beast," as Lewis calls Buonaparte, which might all 
be in my favour, as making more money going ; and I 
should gain praise from de publick by enduring my present 

* William, 4th Duke, " Degenerate Doaglas/' died, aged eighty-six, 
33 Dec, 1 8 10, 

Digitized by 



state patiently a few months longer perhaps, and at 
present it would be considered quite a party quedion^ 
not concerning me individually. 

Think of the impertinence, dear, of Lady Oxford say- 
ing to me, " I wish the Princess Charlotte would learn 
to curtsey, for she has a most famiUar nod that is not 
at all royal.'* I made her no answer. 

And now, dear [ 1, you wiU be weary of this eternal 

letter, so I will say adieu for the present, and beg you 
to believe me. 

Yours affectionately, C. P. 

From the Princess of Wales to the same. 

Dear [ ], — I fear you have thought me very 

unkind not to have written to you before this ; but I 
have been so annoyed about my daughter. Princess 
Charlotte, I have not had power to tink of anything 
else. She was very unwell for some da3^, and though 
I begged hard, the Regent and the old stony-hearted 
Queen would not let me see her. 

To tell you God's truth, I know not how long I shall 
be able to go on bearing all my sorrows. Come to me 
at Kensington on Tuesday next, at three o'clock, and I 
will then tell you more ; till then adieu. I reserve all 
the rest of my budget for vive voix, and remain yours, &c. 


P.S. — ^My poor daughter wrote to me to tell me how 
she did herself every day, knowing the barbarity of those 
about her who would not let me go to her. 

The Princess of Wales to the satne. 

Dated Kensington. 

Why did you not come last evening to Rosamond's 
Bower, as Lewis calls this refuge for the destitute Princes 

Digitized by 



and Princesses ? I had Lord Bso-on and the dear Gells, 
and Craven and Lady Oxford, Mr. Beauclerk and Lord 
Henry, and we were very merry I assure you. It was 
daylight before we parted. We had also, I forgot to say, 
a General Zublikrofi [Zablookofi ?], just imported from 
Russia, who was an excellent person for Gell to play off 
his witticisms upon, and he made the most of the oppor- 
ttmity. He told him the Regent was dying of love for 
Lady Dartmouth, and that she was the reigiiing favourite 
just now, and the goddess to whom he should pay court 
if he wanted a favourable reception from the Prince. 
The goose beUeved it all like gospel, and amused us very 
much with his inocence and ignorance. ::\, . *. -I 

To speak of more sad and serious matters, I have not 
seen Princess Charlotte for nearly five months. She 
is outrageous at the thoughts of leaving this country, 
and her unnatural father assured her that she never would 
have an establishment in this country ; but I have advised 
her to be firm, and not frightened, and I think she will 
conquer. She is no child of mine if she submit to such 

I went yesterday to the meeting annually held of 
the National Education. I went with Lady Elizabeth 
Whitbread, and I was well received and applauded, 
which I know it will give your kind heart pleasure to 
learn ; also Mr. Whitbread did make me a very pretty 
speech. I had Lady Charlotte Lindsay and Lady 
Carnarvon to escort me, and sat by the Dukes of Sussex 
and Kent — the first chairman of the meeting. There — 
what will the Regent say to that ? I hear the Grand 
Duchess is charming in her manners, and has a sort of 
intelligence which my informer (I suppose forgetting 
he spoke to one of the imfortunate race) said was quite 
new in de Princess line. After this, I need scarcely say 
it was Mr. Ward who made dis speech. The Duchess 
held a drawing-room at Devonshire House the other 

Digitized by 



evening. I never have signe de vie now from any of dat 

set, I mean G. L[ ]w, W. C[ ]s,— oh, no ! dey 

are too wise to court de setting s\m. 

I am interrupted, so good bye, 
Croyez moi pour la vie, 

Yours most affectionately, 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

My dear [ ], — ^After a second reflection, which the 

moralists assure us is the best of ally I shall be satisfied 
with the sum of £300, as I verily believe ^^500 is quite 
out of the reach of possibility at this period. I am much 
sorry for all the dreadful trouble I put you to on my 
miserable account. 

You will be sorry to hear of Mrs. Beauclerk having 
lost her yotmgest son, in consequence of which she is 
in the greatest affiction. It was quite imexpected. 

I am afraid I shall not have the pleasure to see you 
to-morrow at Lady Anne Barnard's breakfast, as I 
intend to send an excuse, knowing it will be a very dull 
party there. I cannot begin my day with tiresome 
people. I hope you will be able to come to Kensington 
on Friday, on which evening T. Campbell promised me 
to read his lectiures to us. In case you meet my mother 
at Lady A. Barnard's, I prepare you that she intends to 
pay you visits, and to ask you often to the house to 
dinner ; now, as her parties, dear good soul, are rigor- 
ously dull, I should think the most prudent way would 
be tiiat you inform her that you are to be abs^t from 
town for some time, to avoid being made a victim of ; 
her entertainments are de dullest ever invented. I am 
out of favour, but really I do not deserve it, so I try not 
to trouble my poor head with unnecessary evils, having 
so much to plague me that I cannot get rid of. I give 

Digitized by 



a dinner on Sunday the 28th to Lord Grey and the Duke 
of Gloucester. Think you dot would be a party that 

would suit the [ ] ? And now I will not tire you any 

longer, but only wish you much amusement at your ball, 
dinner, and concert. I remain, yours, &c. 

C. P. 

In reading the above letter it is impossible not to 
regret how many advantages the unhappy writer of it 
threw away and contenmed. For instance : the Princess 
never would avail herself of the kind protection of re- 
spectable persons, unless they happened to amuse her. 
She had an aversion to duhiess ; and would have risked 
solid benefits to gratify her thirst for amusement for a 
few passing moments.* 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

October gth, 1813. 

Nothing but discretion has prevented me from writing 

sooner to you, my dear [ ], and also having had no 

pleasant news to entertain you with. Sir Harry Engle- 
field has left under my care a most beautiful maroon 
morocco portfolio for you, wherein all the witticisms, 
songs, and drawings have been collected for your perusal ; 
but Mrs. Arbuthnot, who has left town for five weeks, 

is the cause of my not sending it to you. The [ ] 

never came to take leave of me, though they told Miss 
Garth that they intended to do so : — ainsi va le tnonde. 
I am becoming more and more insignificant every day, 
and cannot say I feel sure of having a single friend in 

England ! It is a melancholy position, my dear [ ^], 

to be thus isoUy but I mxist bear my fate, and keep up 
a good courage so long as I can. How long that may 
be, God, He knows. I am ashamed of wearjnng you 

with my lucubrations, dear [ ], but you are always 

* Original comment. 

Digitized by 



indulgent to my miserable self, and truly one most 
confide one's sorrows to somebody. 

Mr. Ward has been in town since ten days, but he has 
not honoured Kensington with his witticisms and sar- 
casms. I was told the Regent wished to turn him away 
from me ; dot is possible, but it would not break my 
heart ; he is such an odd being, one cannot depend upon 

We go on here at Kensington in a humdrum way, and 
many days I dine by myself in my little room, and see 
only my two deputy guardian angels, only that they may 
see I am alive and well. The following week will be a 
little more lively, as dear Lady Glenbervie will take charge 
of my welfare, my soul and my mind, and all my earthly 
worth and celestial. By the frank which this letter will 
receive, you will see who dines with me to-day, and that 
we are still in expectation of the gentle Devons. 

Believe me, ever yours, 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

My dear [ \ — I send you back your paper, and I 

shall take care of the [ 1 letter concerning our plan 

about our mutual friend's letters to be published. I 
have some particular reason that the title should be 
" Genuine Documents found amongst the papers of the 
ever-to-be-lamented Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. 
Spencer Perceval, and that in the year 1806, on the 
nth of June, Mr. Perceval undertook the charge of very 
valuable letters and papers which were in the Princess's 
possession from the period that she came to this country, 
till the demise of Mr. Perceval. No other inducement 
can be the motive of la}dng them before the eyes of the 
public, but to show how much this illustrious personage 
has suffered from the traducers and slanderers of her 

Digitized by 



honour; and every British heart will feel the justice 
of her cause, and espouse it with energy and vigour." 

This is only a rough sketch of the picture ; I shall 
write to you more at length next Monday. I wish I 
could see you for an hour, as I think by word of mouth 
everything is better explained. 

Ever yours, &c. 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

I have been much amused with your remark con- 
cerning husbands, and I trust, dear [ ] you will 

retain the same sentiment for ever, as I all my life 
thought husbands were only a creditable evil, and men in 
general a necessary plague. But so much about nothing. 

I send you the enclosed answer from Messrs. Drummond, 
which is a very laconic one. I am still in hopes that 

H[ ], by his influence, will succeed in my negotiation, 

as I really should not know how to turn myself if it 
should not succeed. I must teU you an unpleasant 
circumstance which occurred to me the other evening. 

I was in the ante-room ; Mr. M[ ] and Lord L[ ] 

were talking together in the drawing-room, waiting for 

me, and I heard Lord L[ ] say, " The Princess is so 

vain and foolish, no one can do her any good ; her 
English is the most ridiculous language any one ever 
made use of, and I could scarcely help laughing the 
other night, when she said to me, * Give me my wails.* ** 

I did not stay to listen to any more of what these 
treacherous " friends " of mine might have to say about 
me, but I thought to myself, then why do you come so 
often to my dinners, &c., and I determined they should 
not be asked again in a hurry. However, I went in 
to them, and tried to be as dvil as I could, but I felt 
furious when they made me fine compliments, and I 

Digitized by 



soon dismissed them. So much for courtiers. I send 
you Madame De Stael's pamphlet, and remain yours, 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

My dear [ ], — I have been busy all this week trjdng 

to make up a match for Lady A. H[amilton]. I have 
set my heart on getting her married somehow or other 
to some man ; she would be so much more agreeable 
if she was married; at present she is so full of old 
maid's whims and prudery, it is quite tiresome to be 
under her surveillance. 

Lady Oxford has no thought but for Lord B[yron]. 
I wonder if she will succeed in captivating him. She 
can be very agreeable when she pleases, but she has not 
pleased to come near me for this long time past ; she 
has quite forgotten that Kensington Palace used to be a 
convenient place to see certain folks, and be seen by 
them ; nHtnportes, ga nCest Hen igal ; she does not make 
le pluis ou le beau temps to me, only it shows what her 
friendship is worth, and how little gratitude there is in 
her nature. Lord Rivers, I think, is a little mad, but 

very interesting. Lady [ ] is in a great fright that 

Sir W. G[ ] is falling in love with her. I do not see 

the tender passion growing, but perhaps I am short- 
sighted : Lady [ ] is not apt to be vain. I wish you 

good night, my dear ; my eyes are beginning to gather 
straws, as you English say, so no more from yours, &c. 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

Last night I gathered together, my dear, a room full 
of people, and when I did look roimd at them, I said to 
m3^elf , d quoi bon this dull assemblage of tiresome people ? 
and it so happened they were all ugly, and I longed to 

Digitized by 



get them out of my sight, yet I could not send dem away, 
having made them come. De fact is, I know not what 
to do ; I am tired, or rather sad, because I have no grande 
int6ret to busy myself with. A Princess, and no Princess 
— a married woman, and no husband, or worse than 
none ! — never was there a poor devil in such a plight as 
I am. 

Lady Euphemia Stewart, that old comm^re, talked 
to me till I thought my ears never would be able to hear 
again. She thought I listened. Well, no matter. 
What think you I did ? I dare say they all said I was 
mad. I sent them all away, ordered the carriages, and 
set off wid a chosen few to the play. The first one made 
me cry ; and, strange to tell you, I felt a satisfaction 
in being able to weep. And den de second piece was a 
farce, and it made me laugh ; so dat amusement com- 
pensated for the duUification of the first part of the 
night. Little Lewis came into the box : he affected to 
be sentimental ; dat is always laughable in him, and I 
quizzed him. I do not think he enjoyed the fun. 

My dragonne de Virtue has been sick for some days, 
so I am in the utmost danger of being run away with by 
some of the enchanters who come to relieve locked-up 
Princesses. No hopes of getting the dragonne married ; 
no one will venture to espouse Joan of Arc. Dey are all 
afraid of de Amazon, and I am not much surprised. 

Ever yours, 

C. P. 

From the Princess of Wales to the same. 

I shall see Mr. Brougham next Sunday, as he is my 
counsellor and chief adviser. He thinks it his duty 
first to inform me of it before he gives his final answer 
in the newspapers. 

Many thanks for the interest you have taken in the 

Digitized by 



unexpected event of my brother's death. It was a 
happy release for hun, as he was in a delicate state of 
healtib from his cradle. My mother has not suffered in 
the least from this occurrence. 

I have just been calling at Lady Oxford's door 
to inquire for her and the new-bom Uttle ruffian ; both 
are doing well. The only news I can tell you is, 

that the Duchess of R[ ] is going to lie in of a 

marvellous child. Her husband is as old as de hills ; 
but no one says any harm of her ; indeed she is uni- 
versally extolled. 

I had almost forgotten, dear [ ], to wish you a 

happy new year, which I now beg to do wid all my 
heart, and remain 

Yours, &c. 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

August ph, 1 8 14. 

I am on the eve of sailing, which will be to-morrow 
evening, as the wind is favourable, in the Jason frigate. 
Another brig is to convey all our baggage, luggage, and 
carriages. Captain King represents Jason himself. 

Only tink, my dear [ ], what His Royal Highness 

de Duke of [ ] said to him : *' You are going to take 

de Princess of Wales in your ship. You be a d— d 
fool if you do not make love to her *' Mein Gott I dat 
is de morality of my broders-in-law. 

I rejoice in the thought of so soon being far off from 
all of dem. I shall be at Brunswick, Deo volente, by the 
15th. I intend only to remain in my native country ten 
or fifteen days, after which I shall set out for Switeerland. 
My intention also is to remain at Naples for the winter. 
I transcribe the following quiz on the Emperor for your 
amusement, and have nothing else to say worthy of you. 

Digitized by 



I will only add that I hope you will take my best wishes 
for your happiness and welfare, till we meet again. 
With these sentiments I remain for ever, 

Yoursi &c. 

C. P. 

Copy of the Testament de Napoleon, written in the Princess of 
Wales's handwriting. 

Je Idgue aux Enfers mon g6nie ; 
Mes exploits aux aventnriers ; 
A mes partisans inf amie ; 
Le grand livre k mes cr^ders ; 
Aux Francois I'horreur de mes crimes ; 
Mon exemple k tons les tyrans ; 
La France i ses Rois l^times, 
Et I'hdpital k mes parens. 

Napoleon Buonaparte. 

P.S.— The second Prince of Orange is just arrived in 
London. He is of the same age as my daughter, and I 
should not be much surprised that this marriage would 
take place soon, as Princess Charlotte would certainly 
not be under the necessity to leave her native country, 
he being not the successor, only the second son. 

Telemachus shall meet me at Brunswick, and take the 
place of my old saint, I have been dreadful tormented 
by Whitbread and Brougham about my going abroad. 
Mais bouche close ! Once more, Aidio, touts i vous. 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

26 de Mars, 1815. 

Ma chere [ ], — Je viens d'arriver k Gtees ce matin 

dans une maison d^licieuse prte de la mer. Un jardin 
divin. *Lord et Lady Glenbervi dine aujourd'hui chez 
moi ; ils sont mes meilleurs amis, mais je les trouve 


Digitized by ' 


tous les deux change. Pour la politique il faut que je 
sois bouche dose. Car, h^las ! j'ai trop bien vu des 
choses pour me faire croire toute chose possible k regard 
de Murat et de sa Dame. Le bon Sicard a €t€ 6bhg€ 
de se rendre en Angleterre pour quelques mois, ainsi 
toute la besogne des arrangemens de famiUe retombe sur 

moi. Lady de F[ ] est d6ji k Londres ayant fini 

ses chasses * sur le continent. Monsieur Craven est 

avec sa m^e. Sir W[ ] a la goutte. Voili toute 

mon histoire. 

&c. &c. 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

(No date.) 

My dear [ ], — Many thanks for all the trouble 

you have taken about houses. I hope I have at last 
found^one to put myself, my guardian angels, and all 

my goods and chattek in. [ ] did come this morning 

prosing, and sa}dng My Royal Highness ought not to 
leave Kensington Palace : — ^as if dere were protection 
and honor in these old walls ! No, no ; I must and will 
leave dis royal hospital for the decayed and poor royalties, 
and live in some more cheerful situation, and one where 
my friends can come to me without paying de toU at 
the tumpike-gate. Dey would like to have me always 
shut up in dis convent. Out of der mind, out of der 
sight, my dear. But I will not submit. 

I send for your edification a criticism that has lately 
reached me, and remain for evei 

Your affectionate 

C. P. 

P.S. — I have made Joan copy out the vers. 

* In allusion to that lady having hunted with the court at Naples. 
[Original note.] 

Digitized by 



The costume op the ministers.* 

Having sent ofiE the troops of bold Major Camac, 

With a swinging horse-tail at each valorous back, 

And such helmets, God bless us 1 as never deck'd any 

Male creature before, except Signor Giovanni. 

" Let's see," said the R — g — ^nt, like Titus perplex'd 

With the duties of empire, " whom shall I dress next ? " 

He looks in the glass, but perfection is there — 

Wig, whiskers, and chin tufts all right to a hair ! 

Not a single ex-carl on his forehead he traces, 

(For curls are like ministers, strange as the case is. 

The faktr they are, the more firm in their places.) 

His coat he next views ; but the coat who could doubt ? 

For his Yarmouth's own Frenchified hand cut it out I 

Every pucker and seam were made matters of state. 

And a grand household council was held on each plait. 

In short, such a vein of perfection ran through him. 

His figure, for once, was a sinecure to him. 

Then whom shall he dress ? Shall he new rig his brother. 

Great C — ^mb — ^rl — ^nd's Duke, with some kickshaw or 

And kindly invent him more Christian-like shapes 
For his feather-bed neckcloths and pillory capes ? 
Ah I no, here his ardour would meet such delays. 
For the Duke had been latdy packed up in new stays — 
So complete for the winter, he saw very plain 
'Twould be dev'lish hard work to i^wpack him again. 
So what's to be done ? There's the ministers, bless 'em, 
As he made the puppets, why should not he dress 'em ? 
An excellent thought ! Call the tailors ; be nimble ; 

While Y — ^rm ^h shall give us, in spite of all quizzers, 

The last Paris cut with his true Galhc scissors. 

So saying he calls C — st — ^r — gh, and the rest 

Of his heaven-bom statesmen to come and be drest ; 

While Y — rm ^h with snip-like and brisk expedition. 

Cuts up, all at once, a large Catholic petition 
In long tailors' measures, (the Prince crying " Well done I 
And first put in hand my Lord Chancellor £. L. D. O. N.) 
• From Moore's " Twopenny Post-bag." 

Digitized by 



The Princess of Wales to the same. 

My dear [ ], — I am very sorry to hear of your being 

ill. Pray send me word how you are by return of my 
messenger, as I shall be extremely anxious to hear you 

are better. Only tink what the courtier, Lord M[ Ja 

did de oder night. When Lady Charlotte Lindsay go 
to Carlton House, she forget to take her credentials with 
her. So when dat preux Chevaher ask for it, she say 
she have left it at home by mistake ; yet Milord will not 
let her in, though he is intime wid her, and she have to 

return and fetch de card of invitation before Lord M[ ]a 

will let her enter de presence of de great Mogul I So 
much for de courtesy of dis pohte gentleman ; it does 
not reflect honour on de lessons he have received from 
his royal master. 

Enough about nothing, my dear. 

From your 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales to the same. 

Dear [ ],— Pray do me the favor to accept and 

wear de accompanying gown, and when you are in de 
ball at Carlton House, tink of me, and wish me well. 

For ever your affectionate 

C. P. 

The above brief note is full of matter for reflection 
and conunent. In the first place it is a proof of the 
Princess's generosity of feeling, as well as her liberality 
of ideas in pecuniary matters. She always had pleasure 
in giving to those of her ladies whom she considered to 
be in want of her generosity. But the occasion on which 
the foregoing note was written was one in which she 
displayed great magnanimity of character and nobiUty 
of disposition. AU Her Royal Highness's ladies had 

Digitized by 



been invited to a £6te by the Prince Regent, from wbidi 
she was herself excluded : yet she took that opportunity 
to give them a proof of her regard, by presenting them 
all with very handsome dresses. Such traits of character 
should be set forth, and receive the public homage due 
to their merit.* 

The PriKcbss of Walbs to the same. 

My dear [ 3, — What shall I say — dat I am in low 

spirits ? It will only vex your kind heart to hear of 
my being unhappy. Yet, h61as ! it is the only news I 
can offer for your amusement. But it is so long since I 
have had the pleasure of seeing you, or hearing an3rting 
about you, dat I must trouble you with a few lines, to 
ask you to let me have de satisfaction of hearing of your 
welfare ; and also let you know that such a person as I 
still exist on de face of der terrestrial globe. 

I have lived very quiet since I saw you last, and no 
one has intruded demselves upon my solitude ; unless 
I do show dem de knife and fork no company has come 
to Kensington or Blackheath, and neither my purse nor 
my spirits can always afford to hang out de offer of 
"An ordinary.** 

I have seen my daughter once ; she do not look well, 
and I tink dey not love her very much, poor soul, but I 
no say anything to make her grumble ; it is best she should 
be satisfied with what is. She sees little of the Sultan, 
and he do not take the way to win her heart. Mais 9a 
lui est bien ^al k ce qui paroit ; however, he may repent 
his conduct some day. 

I heard of Lady [ ] at a ball de oder night, dressed 

in a curious costume. Her beauty is quite fl^trie comme 
une rose pass6 ; but she has all de perfume dat flower 
has when it is dead ; she is trds amiable et bonne, but 

* Original oommeot. 


Digitized by 



between you and I and dis sheet of paper, voiU tout, 
she will never set fire to de Thames. 

Next month Lady C. Lindsay wiU take de chaige of 
my soul and body, which she always do well, and she is 
very witty, and amuses me. 

I send you some verses Sidney Smith wrote on Lady 

[ 3*s parasol ; pray ornament your scrap-book with 

the productions of dis worthy naan, and believe me for 
ever to remain, 

Your affectionate, 

C. P. 

To Lady [ ys Parasol,— by S. S. 

Detested shade ! thou that dost oft beguile 
My watchful eyes of many a winning smile, 
Why dost thou spread thy silken arch above 
Her dazzling face, and dim the light of love ? 
Why hide the wandering sim-beams from her eyes ? 
No gem so bright the wand'ring sun-beam spies. 
Why stop the breezes from their fleeting bliss ? 
No lips so sweet the fleeting breezes kiss. 
'Twere something worth, if thy soft gloom could stay 
The gazing soul, and cloud the inward day — 
Could veil that form that thrills my inward breast. 
And give me days of ease, and nights of rest. 

From the Princess of Wales to the same. 

My dear [ ], — I did much rc^et your absence 

from my little party last night, for we were all very merry. 
The Gell, Berry, Sidney Smith, Lewis, Lady Oxford (De 
Miscellany Harleyan^ as all de world does call her now), 
and Milord Byron, did make it very pleasant ; and we all 
laugh till we cry. Lewis did play de part of Cupidon, 
which amuse us, as you will suppose. He is grown so 
embonpoint, he is more droll than ever in dat character ; 
but he tink himself charming, and look so happy when 
he make les yeux doux to the pretty ladies, dat it is cruel 

Digitized by 



to tell him, " You are in de paradise of de fools,*' so me 
let him sigh on to My Lady Oxford, which do torment 
Lord Byron, who wanted to talk wid her, and never could 
contrive it. 

Lady Anne is en petite sant6 just now ; she is truly 
interesting ; yet, as your song says, " Nobody's coming 
to marry her," nor I fear never wiU ; so I and Joan shall 
live and die together, like two turtle-doves, or rather 
like dem two foolish women. Lady Eleanor Butler and 
MUe. Ponsonby, who must be mad, I should tink, to 
choose to leave the worid, and set up in a hermitage in 
Wales, — ^mais chacun a son goiit, — it would not be mine. 

My dear [ ], I do dread being married to a lady friend. 

Men are t)n:ants, mais de women — ^heaven help us ! dey 
are vrais Neros over those they rule. No, no, — give me 
my sweet Prince, rather than a female governess. 

We are aU so well, and in such good spirits, that we 
shall be at Worthing on Thursday at five o'clock, in the 
year of our Lord 1814, on the 26th of May. 

There are wonderfid and astonishing reports in the 
great metropolis ; that the Queen has written a letter to 
the Princess of Wales, by the instigation of the Prince 
Regent, that the Princess is not to appear at the drawing- 
room ; — ^and that the Princess of Wales has written a very 
spirited answer to the Queen, assuring her that her deter- 
mination was to go, for which reason nobody believes 
that there will be any drawing-room ; but we will talk 
of it at our meeting. 

So for the present I will only add dat I am 
Your sincerely affectionate 

C. P. 

The Princess of Wales io the same. 

CoMo, Villa D'Estb, Friday. 

Thank you, ma chire, for your kind letter, which I am 
afraid to answer^ for I have so little to tell you ; living 

Digitized by 



here, as I do, wid my faithful little society, who are all 
composed of persons dat do not meddle wid de grand 
mande, which suits me better than if they did, but which 
of course prevents my having much wherewith to enter- 
tain oders. I should be happy to see you in my Kttle 
nutshell, which is pretty and comfortable, and my gardens 
are charmant. I lead quite a rural life, and work in de 
garden myself, which do my body and mind both good. 
I am pretty well in health. Au reste, toujours de meme. 

I heard from my daughter de oder day. She expect 
to be confined in November. She sent me some vers, de 

production of Lady [ Js genius for de muse, on the 

subject of dat interesting Prince, her husband. Perhaps 

it may amuse you to see what a courtier Lady [ ] is 

become. She never write to me now ; she has gone wid 
de crowd, and turned her back upon de setting sun to 
worship the rising planet ; mais, she mistakes if she tink 
Charlotte will hke her the better for not noticing de 
Princess of Wales. 

Pray give my compliments to Lady W[ ]d, if she 

is at Rome. She is always polite to me. 

And now, having no amusement to offer you, I will 
only say that I am toujours your sincere friend, 

C. P. 

On being desired by Princess ChaHoUe to write some lines on 
the Portrait of her Husband. 


The thoughtful Ih-ow, the warrior mien, 
The look that speaks a soul serene ; 
The forehead's fine capacious bound. 
With intellectual beauty crowned ; 
The pensiveness which seems to say 
That deep-felt bliss is never gay : 
Such is this image. May it be 
For e'er ds now. beloved by thee | 

Digitized by 



United may ye ever live 
With all of joy that earth can give — 
In soul, in thought, in spirit one ; 
And when this earthly race is run» 
Translated to a higher sphere. 
Improve the bliss yon tasted here. 

Later from Queen Caroline to [the satne, in reply to 
one addressed to her Majesty , congratulating her on the 
glorious termination of her trial. 

I assure you, my dear [ ], no one's congratulations 

have been more welcome to me than yoiurs. I do indeed 
feel thankful at having put my enemies to confusioni 
and received the justice my conduct and character deserve. 

Mais hdas, it comes too late, dear [ ]. Her who 

would have rejoiced wid me at her moder's triumph is 
losset to me ; but she is in a much better world dan de 
present, and we shall meet soon I trust, for to tell you 
de truth I cannot expect much comfort nowhere so long 
as I shall Uve. No one, in fact, care for me ; and this 
business has been more cared for as a political affair, dan 
as de cause of a poor forlorn woman. Mais n'importe ! 
I ought to be grateful ; and I reflect on dese proceedings 
wid astonishment — car ils sont vraiment merveilleux. 
That I should have been saved out of the Philistines' 
hands is truly a miracle, considering de power of my 
enemies and deir chiefs, for noting was left imdone dat 
could be done to destroy my character for evermore. I 
could tell you something — oh ! mein Gott ! some day 
I will — ^but I cannot write dem. I feel very unwell, 
fatigued, and 6bay6 ; I wonder my head is not quite 
bewildered wid all I have suffered — and it is not over yet 
wid me. Dat cruel personage will never let me have 
peace so long as I stay in dis country : his rancune is 
boundless against me. 

I was sure you woud rejoice at my glory, dear [ ] ; 

Digitized by 



no one has been more true to me dan yourself at all times, 
and you have not wasted your interest on an ingrate I 
assure you. 

Poor Joan of Arc has really proved herself true to de 
name I used to give her pour me moquer d'elle. She has 
staid wid me through it all, and God He knows dat was 
no small trial. Poor soul ! I hope He will reward her 
for her courage. 

Many people call on me now who never did before. 

The [ ] is one of those who has made me Tamende 

honorable. I will not quarrel with their respect, though 
it is shown me rather late in de day, and when they 
cannot well help it. 

I could prose for an hour to you, dear [ ], but will 

spare your patience, and my own eyes and head, which 
are both aching. 

So adieu, and believe me 

Truly and affectionately yours, 


Digitized by 



Digitized by 


Digitized by 


Extras from a Letter of Princess Charlotte,^ 

DaUd Weymouth, 19th August, 181 5. 

I CANNOT dose this letter without returning my best 
acknowledgments for your condolence with, and in- 
quiries after me, in consequence of the fall of my 
glorious (as well as much-loved) uncle. 1 bore it as, 
I trust, a Christian ought, bowing to the will of the all-wise 
Being ; but it was a grievous circumstance — a dreadful, 
an irremediable loss to me, for the great possess few real 
friends. In him I had a warm and constant one, allied, too, 
by the closest ties of blood. I loved him with the fondest 
affection, and am confident be returned the sentiment. 
His death was so glorious — so completely what he alwa}^ 
desired for himself — ^that if it was decreed he should so 
early in life quit this world, he would not close his career 
more gloriously or more worthy of a hero, as he was, and 
of that father and that blood he descended from. 

Pardon me if I seem enthusiastic in my expressions ; 
but I conf eas this is a topic which warms every feeling 
of my heart and mind. You knew him [a word illegible] 
impartially if I say too much in his favour. My health 
I do not think has suffered from this shock ; but I have 
not been really well for some time past. 
[An ill^ble line.] 
I was much better for so doing last year, and trust I 
may derive equal benefit this ; but I am still complaining, 
though I am not the least fanciful about my health ; 
*iThe ariginal comments are retained, 

Digitized by 



that is a weakness I do not aUow myself to indulge in, 
though there are some which cannot be avoided by the 
wisest. I less regret than I otherwise should do your 
remaining abroad, for two reasons : the first is [illegible] ; 
secondly, there is at present so little chance, I may say 
none indeed, of our meeting, that it would only be tan- 
talizing. Time, which is the sweet healer of aU sorrows, 
has mitigated and softened down my previous afi9ictions 
and distresses to a gentle mild melancholy and resignation ; 
but the recollection of them cannot be effaced. What 
was at first (as you sensibly remark) the aggravation of 
my sorrow is now my consolation. 

I trust my mother continues well, and that she has not 
been very much shocked by the death of her brother. 
I hope she has got a letter. / was perimUed to write to 
her on the sad event, &c. 

(Signed) Charlotte. 

The above letter does great credit to the head and 
heart of the ro3ral writer. Who would not have expected 
that such warm affections, such natural and pious reflec- 
tions, must have ripened into a great and good character, 
had this young Princess lived to realize those expectations? 
but it pleased God to take her away, it may be, from 
the ills to come. 

Another from Her Royal Highness to the same, 
dated Warwick House. 

My dear Miss Mercer brought me word of your return 

to [ ], dear [ ], and I write to ask you to be so 

kind as to do me the favour of coming to see me any day 
this week, from one till five, when you will be sure to find 
me at home in my own sitting-room. I wish very much 
to have the pleasure of seeing you again, and I also wish 
you to look at and give me your opinion of a portrait 

Digitized by 



Hayter has been painting of me. It is reckoned like ; 
but I do not feel flattered by it. Do not think me vain, 
and suppose I expect to be represented as a perfect beauty, 
because I am a Princess ; but the fault I find with this 
picture is, that there is no sentiment in the expression, — 
it is quite a piece of still life, and rather cross-looking. 
I dare say I did look tired ; for oh ! it is very tiresome 
to sit for one's portrait. However, I ought to make 
allowances for the artist if he has failed, for I know I was 
a very bad sitter. 

So pretty B. B[ ] is married to Lord W. B[ \ 

I hope she wiU be happy, and I hear much good said of 
her husband. I could have wished her a richer one ; but 
it is frequently not the best matches that turn out the 
happiest. Talking of matches, I hear I am to be married 
to the Prince of Orange ; it is more than I know myself. 
If you see my mother, please to tell her so, with my love. 
Have the goodness to send me word what day you can 
call on me, and believe me 

Yours, most truly, 

(Signed) Charlotte. 

The portrait Her 'Roydl Highness the Princess Char- 
lotte mentions in the above letter, is certainly the most 
faithful likeness ever taken of her ; but the Princess was 
not a very good judge of the fine arts, nor indeed of the 
merit of a portrait as such, to judge by the specimens 
which she had hanging up in her apartments, and which 
she admired. I remember once observing a picture which 
I thought was intended to represent the Duke of D[evon- 
shire], and upon my asking Miss K[night] whose portrait 
it was, that lady replied, with courtier-like prudence, 
that it was the picture of the Pretender. There was a 
comical aptness in the expression she made use of, to 
the real person whom, I bdieve, the picture represented, 
at which I could scarcely restrain smiling. Perhaps it 

Digitized by 



was the portrait of a Pretender in more senses than 

Extract front another Letter from Her Royal 
Highness to the same. 

Thank you, dear [ ], for having permitted me to 

peruse my mother's letter to you, though, indeed, its 
contents have made me feel very uncomfortable. I wish 
with all my heart things could be altered, or, at least, 
that she could be persuaded to feel more at peace, and, 
above all, more confidence in those who really have her 
interests at heart. If I could see you I would tell you 
why I do not write to her ; but I do not think it quite 
prudent to write all I feel upon this, to me, very painful 

I trust, Dr. [Holland ?] wiU remain in the Princess's 
service, and am also led to hope that Lady C. C[ampbell] 
may join my mother again. I should feel much relieved by 
knowing that she had some EngUsh attendants with her in 
a foreign country. I think some of the others might have 
remained with her ; but I am told they were all compelled, 
from circumstances in their own private afiairs, to return 
to England. I think she would do well to secure Miss 

M[ ] as a temporary attendant. She is trustworthy 

I believe ; but you know my mother is not easily pleased* 

I cannot help thinking it was unlucky she ever left 
England ; yet I can fully enter into the motives she had 
for so doing, or rather the feelings which prompted her 
to seek change of scene. 

I have said too much on this subject, dear [ }; 

pray forgive me for havii^ prosed so long. Thank you 
for your inquiries after my health. I am not so well as 
I ought to be, for indeed I have everything to make me 
both perfectly well and perfectly happy, and these lesser 
evils sink before my greater blessings, and I hope to grow 

Digitized by 



stronger as the warm weather advances. The Prince 
desires me to say something kind from him to you ; what 
shall that something be ? I am no very ready scholar, 
so I will leave it to you to compose a pretty speech for 
him. All I can assure you of, and that with great sincerity, 
is, that my cara sposo and myself are very truly yours, 

(Signed) C. P. S. C. 

This letter is a pleasing proof of Princess Charlotte's 
affection for her mother, and afiords ample grounds for 
believing that, had they mutually been spared, each 
would have derived comfort and protection from the 
other. In a very remarkable letter (though a brief one) 
given in the body of the Diary, Princess Charlotte laments 
her ifMbility at that time to serve her mother, and there 
can be little doubt that, had she ever obtained the power 
to shield and succour the Princess of Wales, the will 
would not have been wanting. From all I ever heard 
or saw of Princess Charlotte's character, I can afi&rm 
that that which she proposed to do, she would have 
surmounted a world of difficulties to have performed ; 
and I am certain that the passive conduct she displayed 
towards her mother only proceeded from a feeling of 
inability to take any useful or effective steps in her cause. 
There was both wisdom and propriety in the Princess's 
conduct during the whole of that most painful epoch, 
when she was placed in such a situation as not to be able 
to defend one of her parents, without blaming or appear- 
ing to reprobate the other. It is well known to several 
persons, however, what were Her Royal Highness's real 
feelings on the subject, and to which individual her heart 
inclined ; there is no doubt she leant with fond partiality 
towards her mother, and that the chief reason of her 
having appeared so passive for many years, was that 
she had only waited a fit opportunity for supporting the 
Princess of Wales, and advocating her cause judiciously. 

Digitized by 


From the same to the same. 

Dated Fridmy, Clarbmont. 

My dear [ ], — Having so very lately troubled you 

with a letter, I will not be guilty of indiscretion in plaguing 
you with another long one so soon. This is only a few 
lines, to hope you will be able to do us the favour and 
pleasure of coming to us next Thursday, and, should you 
not find it too dully perhaps you would prolong your stay 
till Saturday. Our dinner hour being seven o clock, and 
our rule that of everybody's following their own habits 
as to hours, and doing that which is most agreeable and 
comfortable to themselves, in order to make them feel as 
much at home as possible, it is not d fofon de parler to say 
that this is Liberty Hall, and that we are only too happy 
to dispense with form and ceremony. 

I heard from my mother a few days ago ; she had 
reached Geneva, and was much pleased with her reception 
there. I hope she will derive much benefit from her tour, 
mats je ne S(ais ; at all events, change of air must do her 
health good. It would require more than novelty of place 
and society, I fear, to do her spirits service. However, 
I hope time and Providence may yet have much happiness 
in store for her. 

Adieu, my dear [ ], and believe me yours, most 

sincerely and affectionately. 

(Signed) C. P. S. C. 

The great simplicity and unaffected style of the fore- 
going letters render them exceedingly interesting, as 
being the production of a ro3ral personage. And they 
are a true index of the Princess's mind, which was, like 
them, true, natural, and kind. But Her Royal Highness 
mistook, when she promised her correspondent should 
find no form or ceremony at Claremont, for it was far 
otherwise, whatever the Princess might have wished on 

Digitized by 



that point. There was another person, whose will was 
paramount to hers, and who considered, and perhaps 
with justice, that it was not advisable to dispense with 
all observance of etiquette, and the circle was by no means 
without form and stiffness. It was remarked by persons 
who were present, that the Prince never quitted the 
Princess for a single moment when she was in company, 
and Her Royal Highness seldom, if ever, saw anybody 
alone after her marriage ; her husband was always present, 
and the chief favourite of the Princess Charlotte, Miss M, 
E[lphinstone], who was accustomed formerly to go straight 
to Her Royal Highness's private apartment, was always 
subsequently shown into the pubUc reception rooms, and 
made to await there the announcement that Their Royal 
Highnesses were ready to receive her. 

It was a singular fact, that the heiress apparent to the 
throne was not permitted to have an establishment in any 
degree suited to her rank, and that the Princess Charlotte 
had no regular attendants. Certainly, every means were 
taken to keep her in subjection, and there can be no doubt 
that the " rising sun " was an eye-sore to the Regent, 
more especially as it was the daughter of the Princess of 
Wales who was to be his successor. And both Princess 
Charlotte and her husband evinced much discretion and 
forbearance, in the dignified manner in which they avoided 
causing any tmnult in the country, by attempting to 
enforce their rights, or asking for the dignities and privi- 
leges to which they had a claim. 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 





Digitized by 


Digitized by 


Letter from M. G. Lewis. 

Edinburgh, February 14th. 

DEAR [ ^1 — I received your letter at lD,verary 
Castle, wUere I was too much occupied to 
write to any person, with the exception of 
my mother. I am now again upon the wing, 
and only intend to sojourn for a day or two in this northern 
capital, which is at present quite deserted, all the choice 
spirits having quitted it to seek green groves and rural 
sights. We had a very pleasant party at In verary. Besides 
the faunily there were Tom Sheridan and pretty Mrs. 

Gf [ and C[ ]d, who were amusing us idlers with 

their tender glances at each other. Tom was in great force, 
and wrote verses without end. Knowing that you are 
curious in these matters, I transmit to you his *' last " upon 

Lady [ ]j which, I think, will please you. This must be 

a very short epistle, as I am charged with commissions to 

execute for Lady [ ] and Mrs. [ ] and Miss [ ]. 

I am in great request among the ladies, I beg to assure 
you, and also that I am ever faithfully yours, 

M. G. Lewis. 

P.S. I send you the verses written in Tom's own 

hand, so you may give the autograph copy, if it so 

please you^ to your friend [ ], who is collecting such« 



Digitized by 



T. Sheridan to Lady [ ]. 

Mark'd you not how that mom, when all around 
The drifting snow had blanch'd the shivering ground ; 
When zephjnr's gentle call great nature heard. 
How quick each struggling plant and shrub she rear'd ; 
Woke the mute grove, reviv'd the drooping flocks, 
And shook the tempest from her verdant locks ? 

So when sad thoughts of joy for ever flown. 
Or self-reproach for foUies still my own, 
Drives o'er my shrinking heart ; and bitter truth 
Chills the wild, thoughtless spirit of my youth ; 
Thy magic skill, with music's thrilling charm. 
Dispels the storm ; my trembling senses warm ; 
Bright hopes like springing flow'rets deck my way. 
My breast is sunshine, and the world again runs gay. 

Letter from M. G. Lewis, Esq. 

My dear [ ], — I should have answere<} your kind 

letter before now, but that I have been so gay I have not 
had a moment to spare to absent friends. There's an 
honest confession for you ! Well, I will not waste my 
paper in composing appropriate excuses, but endeavour 
to be as amusing as I can. In the first place I must tell 
you that I have lived a great deal at Kensington, and 
that I am happy to say the Princess looks well, and 
appears in good spirits. People, of course, never talk of 
anything but Her Royal Highnesses letter, and I fancy 
for all she will make of it she might as well have let it 
alone. Questionless she has been hardly used ; but for 
all that, she does wrong to make herself the tool of a party, 
if it is by the Opposition she has been instigated to this 
measure. As for the letter itself, the first impression it 
gave me was its being too long. I would have imagined 
she must have composed it herself, though it may have 
been corrected by others ; because it is so diffuse that 

Digitized by 



there is no mistaking it for a woman's writing. Amplifi- 
cation always diminishes interest and compassion, and if 
it had been condensed into one-fourth of its present 
length it would have made a greater effect on the public 
mind. I suppose it was to please Princess Charlotte 
that she wants her to be brought into public ; otherwise 
she is young enough ; besides, her wishes would rather 
retard than accelerate the event. The newspapers say 
the Princess of Wales has been communicative with Sir 
F. B[urdett] ; which is very unwise ; and also, they say, 
she has been dining twice with Lady Oxford. Now she 
ought in prudence to choose more decent company than 
the latter. Is it really true Her Royal Highness dined 
twice with Lady 0[xford] ? You ask me what the feel- 
ing is towards the Princess in Scotland. I can answer, 
decidedly favourable. It appeared to me when I was 
at Edinburgh that she had a strong party in her favour 
there, and that, genersilly speaking, all Scotch and 
virtuous hair stands on end when they hear her abused ; 
but I fear me, if she associates with gay ladies, the good 
dames of Scotia will shake their heads, and not continue 
so partial to Her Royal Highness. 

London is mad with gaiety. There are half a dozen 
parties to go to, at least, every night. There are a host 
of new beauties come forth to turn all our heads ; but, 
for my part, I admire some of the older stagers infinitely 
more than the rosebuds. The sweetest, to my fancy, is 
Miss Rawdon, and she has wit, too, and sprightly humour. 
I wonder what coronet she will get to put upon her 
pretty head. 

Lady Oxford's long fair hair is the most beautiful I 
ever beheld ; she is hke one of Guide's fair Magdalens — 
that is to say, in appearance : as to the inside, I don't 
believe there's much penitence there. But stop. I am 
growing ill-natured, which I know you can't bear, so I 
will conclude with giving you a receipt for making an 

Digitized by 


3« tftfe DIARY of a LADY-tN-WXltmo 

accomplished woman! which I b^ you to defiver to 

[ ], and ask him if, out of such ingredients, he could 

hot make up a wife to suit his lordship's fastidious 


fc» • . .. 

To form a fair one all complete, 
Regard the following receipt : — 
Take noble Devon's lovely face ; 
Take Mariboroug^'s dignity and grace ; 
A grain of Lady Bridget's wit ;* 
The shape and d^ance of Pitt ; f 
From Smyth take ev'ry polish'd art 
liiat youth and genius can impart ; 
From Cath'rine % take th' historic page ; 
From Pod what love will most assuage ; 
From Townshend's eye take Cupid's dart, 
Kake Lothian fix it in the heart 
What wdl w91 ev'ry care beguile 
Must be collected from CarMe ; 
.From iPembroke's conduct lessons take 
To mould and mend a noble rake * 
Dawkins Hymen's torch sliall lend ; 
From Langhome learn to be a feiend. 
Minerva's talents take from Guise ; 
Take brilliancy from Clayton's eyes ; 
A little dash of Fitzro3r's§ spirit, 
Craven's wish and Milf(»:d's merit ; 
Take Cranboume's || lively wit and sense. 
With fair Louisa's ^ innocence, j^ 
Let Acheson the mind improve, 
And Joddrel fan the flame of love. 
Let Bulkley lend the wedding chain ; 
Ask Milner how a heart to gain. 
From Baily learn a heart to keep. 
And honey take from Beauchamp's lip. 
Take softness from Carmarthen's **dame. 
And Philps to crown the lover^s fame. 

* Lady Pridget Tbllemadie; t Lady Rivers. 

I .Mrs. Macaulay. S L^dy Southampton, 

n Laay Salisbury. f Lady Shelbume. 

♦♦ Lady Cbnybri. 

Digitized by 



Let Crespigny by magic powers 
Fill up and smooth domestic hours. 
Granby shall loves and graces spare. 
And Hobart banish every care. 
Let Vaughan conduct the marriage reins. 
And Meynell ease a lover's pains. 
Taste you will find in Derby's school ; 
Let Bampfield teach you how to rule ; 
And Thanet all that gladdens life, 
In friend, in mistress, or in wife. 

They are too long by half ; but out of the quantity of 

ingredients surely [ ^3 can make up a wife for himself. 

Ever yours, 

M. G. Lewis. 

From the same. 

Dbar [ ], — ^I have no great pleasure in writing in 

ladies' albmns, but to please you, anything 1 can do I 
always will ; — so to please your friend, for your sake, I 
send you the last productions of my muse. Poor thing, 
she's sadly out of order, and nearly worn out, as you will 
see by the specimens I send you herein enclosed ; but it 
fe the best I have to offer your friend, so she must either 
insert these lines into her album, or put them into the 
fire, which latter, 1 truly think, is all they deserve. The 
subject ought to have inspired me, but I am grown very 
stupid — ^as if I had ever been bright ! — ^what a conceited 
creature the monk is, you will exclaim — so no more about 

I hear it rumoured that Miss F[errie]r doth write novels, 
or is about writing one ; I wish she would let such idle 
nonsense alone, for, however great a respect I may enter- 
tain for her talents (which I do), I tremble lest she should 
fail in this book-making ; and as a rule, I have an aver- 
sion, a pity and contempt, for all female scribblers. The 
needle, not the pen, is the instnunent they should handle 

Digitized by 



and the only one they ever use dexterously. I must 
except, however, their love-letters, which are sometimes 
full of pleasing conceits ; but this is the only subject 
they should ever attempt to write about. Madame De 
Stael even I will not except from this general rule ; she 
has done a plaguy deal of mischief, and no good, by 
meddling in hterary matters, and I wish to heaven she 
would renounce pen, ink, and paper for evermore. Indeed 
I feel afraid she may get herself into some scrape, from 
which she will perhaps not save her head, if she does not 
take care. In a word, to make short of a long story, I 
hate a blue ; give me a rose any day in preference, that 
is to say, a pretty woman to a learned one. What has 
made you inflict this long harangue upon me ? you will 
exclaim, and I must beg your pardon for so doing ; but 
the fact is, I am full of the subject, being at the present 

moment much enraged at Lady [ ^], for having come 

out in the shape of a novel ; and now, hearing that Miss 
F[errier ?] is about to follow her bad example, I write in 
great perturbation of mind, and cannot think or speak of 
anything else. 

Poor Princess A[meUa], it is said, confessed her marriage 
to Colonel F[it2ro]y before she died and furthermore 
that he treated her very cavalierly ; the more the shame, 
for she was a sweet creature, so amiable and really pretty 
at one time. 

Am I rightly informed, that the Princess of Wales has 
suddenly taken a great fancy for music, and certain 

professors thereof ? I hope not. Do tell Lady [ ] 

to give Her Royal Highness some good advice, though I 
know she never will ; and perhaps she is right. But, if I 
were in her situation, I should feel too much interested 
to be able to withstand saving and serving a person I was 
attached to, even though I might risk the loss of a little 
of the royal favour. I feel certain I should not know how 
to be a courtier, yet I think I might be useful at a court ; 

Digitized by 



though I would not for any sum be Master of the Horse, 
Chamberlain, or candle-snuffer to any royal person what- 
soever. It is a great pity if things go wrong at Kensing- 
ton ; and if they once are ill arranged, it will be almost 
impossible to remedy the evil, or avert painful, nay, awful 
consequences. But I do not wish to be a prophet of evil, 
and all that I say proceeds from sincere regard for Her 
Royal Highness, whom I consider very ill treated. 

I am simimoned to Holland House to dinner, so must 
say adieu, and remain ever yours, 

M. G. Lewis. 

Lines addressed to the Lady Sarah Bayly, by Mr. Lewis, on 
her desiring him to write some verses on her. 

Dated Ramsbury Park, January 3, i8 . 

Come, lute, let me wreathe thee with roses. 

Silver soft be the tune of each string, 
For Sarah the subject proposes, 

And she's the sweet subject I sing. 

What sound can I draw from my lyre. 

What theme can I pour in her ear. 
Not too cold for her charms to inspire, 

Nor too warm for her virtue to hear ? 

Not praise, — ^for its strength might ofiend her, — 
Though the strongest would be but her due ; 

Not love, — for she'd think it too tender, — 
Not less, for it would not be true. 

But, hark ! from the chamber adjoining, 

The harp of Diana I hear ;♦ 
Thanks, Dian, my scruples designing, 

I'm bold now I know you so near. 

Ah ! when Cupid and Phoebus are turning 

Their influence into a curse ; 
When my bosom with passion is burning, ^ 

And my brain is exalted by verse ; 

• Miss Bayly. ^ 

Digitized by 



Lest the goddess of beauty should chide me, 

It's weU for the haU-witted elf 
That nought but a door should divide 'me 

From'the goddess^of chastity's self. 

Lines by M. G, Lewis on Lady Sarah Bayly having talked to 
jMm whilst playing at Chess with him, and having 
made him lose his Queen by so doing. 

My ideas to confuse 

Your tongue wherefore use ? 

Your eyes quite sufficient had been. 
King George in my place. 
While he gazed on your face. 

Like me, had foxgotten his Queen. 

From the same. 

Dated Holland House, October 22. 

My dear [ ], — ^I confess that I am sorry for the 

abandonment of your Lisbon plan, since I think it would 
have been beneficial to your health and spirits as far as 
change of scene, climate, and objects would have gone ; 
but I believe, in every other respect, you would haVfe foimd 
the present to be by no means a fit time for visiting 
Portugal with comfort. I have lately seen several officers 
who are just returned from that kingdom, and represen' 
its state as being truly deplorable. The whole country 
is laid waste ; every thing is exorbitantly dear ; the 
natives are too much occupied by their own losses and 
alarms to show attention to strangers ; the army con- 
sumes all the provisions, and Lisbon is represented as 
being almost on the brink of a famine. When to all this 
we add Portugal's being the seat of war, and the heavy 
loss in the exchange of money, I think you will allow 
that for the present, at least, your plan of visiting Lisbon 
is full as well postponed, like the second part of Dr. 
Drowsey's sermon, " till a more convenient opportimity.'* 

Digitized by 



I dined at Kensington Palace on Tuesday. Nobody 
was there except Dr. John Moore. I was sorry to find 
the Princess evidently in very low spirits. She told me, 
that she was to go to Blacldieath as Sunday last — ^that 
she should remain there seven months, and (if I understood 
her right) that it was Her Royal Highnesses intention to 
see nobody there, except for a short morning visit. Can 
you account for this long retreat of hers ? It is to me 
quite inexplicable. Lady Glenbervie was in waiting, and 
as agreeable as she always is ; that is saying everything 
in her praise. She spoke a great deal to me of our mutual 

friend Lady [ ], and the interest which she takes in 

her welfare ; above all, she charged me to impress upon 

Xjdidy [ ^]*s mind how much better it Would be for her 

to pass the wiiiter at Brighton, than at [ ]. Lady 

Glenbervie observed, that houses are not more expensive 

at the former place, than at the lattefr, while at [ ] 

Lady [ ] would be left quite in solitude, and at Brighton 

she would have an agreeable society, of which she might 
take as little or as much as she chosfe : Lady Gleribervie, 
moreover^ declared herself ready to do everything in her 
power to iriake the place comfortable to our friend, and 
said that Lord GpehbervieJ would take any trouble off 
her hands which might require masculine interference ; 
observing (I should think very truly), that it Was always 
very uncomfortable and inconvenient for a woman to 
reside at a place where she has no male protector to take 
her part if it should be necessary to do so. By the by, 
she said incidentally, " I assure you I am quite anxious 

for Lady [ ] coming to reside at Brighton ; which is 

certainly very generous in me, for Lord Glenbervie Admires 
her beyond any woman in the world." I set this down 
as a joke, but people have since assured me that she meant 
it quite seriously, for that she is really arid truly extiremely 
jealous of her caro sposo. Have you ever had any sus- 
picion of this kind ?— But to return to Brightoh aiid Lady 

Digitized by 



Glenbervie. I replied to all she said (in which I think 
there was a great deal of reason) by saying Yes ; but if 
the Regent goes there, it would be extremely unpleasant 

for Lady [ ], as I have every reason to believe he 

would take no notice of her ; for, notwithstanding that 
he pretended at first to take the mtelligence of her having 
accepted the place of lady-in-waiting to the Princess of 
Wales with a good grace, I was assured he by no means 
liked the circumstance of so dignified and advantageous 
a person being about the Princess ; and I have heard 
suspicions that he influenced Lady Sheffield to quit Her 
Rojral Highnesses service ; but of this last circumstance 
I am not so well informed, and think it rather a far- 
fetched and improbable act of mischief. But I dare say 

the Regent did not feel pleased at Lady [ ] filling the 

vacant situation, and I should be sorry she went to a 
place where she would be xmder his eye, and not noticed 
as she deserves to be. I must say, I think it is a most 
illiberal trait in him not to pay that attention due to the 
rank of the Princess's ladies, without reference to their 
being in her service. But such is not his idea of propriety, 

and for this reason I object to Lady [ ] going to 

Brighton. I have alwa}^ considered it a noble contrast 
in the Princess's character, the liberal manner in which 
she always forgives her acquaintances and friends for 
pa}ang court to " the Great Mahomet," as she calls him ; 
and I have particularly admired the total absence of all 
prejudice which she displa}^, by frequently being even 
partial to many of the Regent's cronies. Certainly, she 
has not the justice done her that is due to her merits. 

But who has, my dear [ ], in this world ? 

I have lately been to my sister's new residence, which 
I approve of very much ; the house is thoroughly com- 
fortable, and the park is really beautiful ; it formed part 
of Enfield Chase, is still quite wild, in the forest style, 
and contains some of the finest trees I ever beheld. I 

Digitized by 



think you will be pleased with the place, and flatter myself 
that, when you return to this part of the world, you will 
manage to pass some days there. Maria and Lushington 
will, I am certain be most happy to receive you. From 
my sister*s I went to Lord Melbomne's and from thence 
to Oatlands, where I foxmd the royal party well, and 
gracious to me, as they always are. By the way, the 
Duchess is very kind in her feelings about the Princess of 
Wales, but hilas I d quoi bon ? in the world*s opinion — 
though in my humble estimation, she is very good- 
hearted person, and has many virtues that others more 
esteemed do not possess. 

I am now come to make a short stay at Holland House, 
where I find all going on i Vofdinaire, — I was sorry to 

learn that Lady [ ] has not profited by Lady Mary 

Cook's death,* and that she has sent her coals to New- 
castle, by leaving her riches to the Duchess of Buccleugh. 
I could, on hearing this intelligence, have sent Lady Mary 
to a place not proper to mention to " ears polite." I 
always thought her a detestable piece of buckram and 
pride, and am now quite convinced I was right. 

I hear Clanronald has made his proposals and been 
accepted. He has been rather long of making them, 
but the Princess says this was right, for that it would not 
have been proper in him to have done so before, and that 
it would have been unfeeling in him to have proposed so 

soon after Mrs. G[ '^s death. I hope this is the proper 

reason, but I confess I do not understand it. While she 
was ahve, his attachment to her might have made him 
waver as to manying ; but really, I cannot see, as things 

stand at present, how Mrs. G[ ] can be any obstacle, 

or where there is any delicacy in the case. 

Lord H[artingto]n is wooing Lady £[lizabet]h 
B[ingha]m. I do not envy him the lady, she is so full of 
conceits, and so busy at work for a great partie. The 

* She died, very rich, on 30 Sept: 181 1. 

Digitized by 



Lord hdp us I what a deal of trouble she takes. Some- 
how, I do not think she will win this great prize. Lord 
H[artington] may play with her as a cat does with a 
mouse, and let her ladj^ship go after all, which is often 
the fashion of these great men. Besides, there are more 
things than are dreamt of in our philosophy, and you 
know the story of that house, which, i/ so be it is true, 
would preclude any alliance. 

I have no mo^^e to say at present, dear [ ]. Indeed* 

I dare say you will think I have said too much by half, 
sp here I stop, wishing you all possible felicity. 

I remain, ever most truly youis, . 
M. G. Lewis. 

From the same. 

London, Nov. %th, 4 in the Morning. 

My dbar [ 1 — ^I have been on the point of writing 

to you for many months, but still delayed it, in the daily 
expectation of telling you positively, what I can now tell 
you very positively indeed — ^when I was to set out for 
Jamaica. My chaise is at the door, my baggage is on 
board, and in a few hours I shall have quitted England. 
Accept, therefore, my parting assurances of unimpaired 

friendship for yourself and [ ] in the same breath. 

Be assured that time and distance have no effect upon 
my affections, and that as long as I am in existence you 
and yours will ever have, at least, one sincere friend in 
the world. God Almighty for ever bless you ! and do 
not forget your sincerely attached 

M. G. Lewis. 

P.S. Make my parting respects to the Princess of 
Wales when you see her, or write to her, and tell her that 
I have never forgotten the kindness with which she 
honoured me. If I do not find her in England on my 
return, I trust that in Italy I shall be more fortunate, and 

Digitized by 



in whatever part of it she may be, I shall not fail to 
pay my respects to her. My brother-in-law, Sir Henry 
Lushipgton, when he passed near Milan, inquired whether 
Her Royal Highness was at the Lago di Como, and if she 
had been there he would have gone over there purposely 
to. inquire whether she had any conunands for Englaad. 
I hope Her Royal Highness will act prudently, and I also 
sincerely hope and pray all her enemies may be confounded. 
The pleasant evenings I have spent at Kensington, Her 
Royal Highness's hospitality, and the deUghtful assem- 
blage of persons she had the good taste to congregate 
around her, will ever form the most agreeable reminis- 
cences in my Ufe. 
Again farewell, and all happiness attend you. 

LeUer from Sir W. Gell. 

My pear [ \ — I ought to make you many apologies 

for not having written long ago in answer to your last 
very charming letter ; but I won't do so, and I'U tell you 
why. It is a bore to invent excuses, and a bore to read 
them. So now for it. If you please, I will dash at once 
into the most interesting topics I wish to discourse with 
you upon. 

• In reply to your kind inquiry about my health, I am 
happy to be able to teU you I never was more flourishing. 
Enough on that score. You ask me for news of the 
Princess. Her Royal Highness appears gay and well 
in health. I have dined frequently lately at Kensington, 
and the society has been most agreeable and '' select,'' 
as the papers say. But when I tell y9u these parties were 
made up of the Lindsay, and the Berry, par excellence 
of all Qerries in the world ; Lady Oxford, who is lovely 
indeed to look upon ; my Lord Byron ; sometimes Sidney 
Smith from whom issues perpetual and dazzling sparks 
of the most brilliant wit ; the grave Lord Henry ; and. 

Digitized by 



though last not least, your humble servant ; you can 
beUeve these parties must be super-excellent, reflect- 
ing on the superior qualities of each individual who has 
composed them. It is wrong in me to have omitted 
our royal hostess herself ; for to " us " much of the gaiety 
and spirit of these entertainments is due. " We " are 
most irresistibly good-natured and droll, in despite of 

Oh the English ! Oh the English ! it is perfect. ''Fie, 
fie, Mr. Cell, dot is a, great shame, 'pon honour. You see 
vat it is to make one man one's friend who laugh at me 
when I do turn my back." 

" I do hate Lord Henry, my dear [ ] ; to tell you 

GotTs truths I cannot bear dat man." (Courtier) — " I 
agree with your Royal Highness." {Aside) "The Lord 
forgive you for leeing^ for leeing,^^ Sec. 

To return to the Kensington parties, — ^joking apart, 
they are the pleasantest arranged meetings in London. 
They only want one more ingredient to render them a non- 
pardl sans pareil mixture — ^that is you. And we must 
have you. The Princess promises to lay her conunands 
upon you, and to smnmon you within reach of her royal 
cry. By the way, Lewis also is often at Kensington. He 
is desperately in love, comme k I'ordinaire, with Lady 
S[ara]h B[ayl]y. It is rare fun to see him looking 

sentimental, as you well know. C. S[ ^]e is going about 

making his observations on the world and his wife. He 
is a very sly gentleman, but can be pleasant when he 
chooses, and has not got the eye ache, or tooth ache, or 
some other ache ; which happens but seldom, for he is 

alwaj^ coddling himself. He is a great pet at D[ ] 


The Princess is very busy trjong to make up a marriage 
for Joan of Arc with some one ; any one voud do. " Oh ! 
mein Gott, she has de eyes of Argus, and do pry into my 
most secret thoughts ; 'pon honour, I wonder sometimes 

Digitized by 



how she guess what I tink. 'Tis a great plague to have 
dis dragonne de Virtue always attending me partout, 
partout. I must find her a husband to deUver me of her. 
Mais qui voudrois I'entreprendre ? " And then Her 
Royal Highness looks very significantly at me, as if she 
thought I should have the courage necessary to con- 
quering this " ilwozon." I leave that boast to a more 
fortunate, or unfortunate man. Meanwhile the lady 
in question, it would seem to me, makes les yeux doux 

to Lord B[ ]. 

Now for some scandal, say you. I hasten to obey, 
and readily open my knapsack, but, alas ! it is scantily 

No. I. — An iU-natured Story. 

A gentleman passing along Piccadilly saw a crowd of 
people at Sir W. Hamilton's door, where they were putting 
the cofiin into the hearse ; but seeing everybody looking 
up at the window, he looked also, and there was to be 
seen Lady H[amilto]n in all the wildness of her grief. 
Some said her attitudes were fine ; others that they were 
affected ; others that they were natiural. At last, as the 
gentleman was leaving this motley group, some of whom 
were crying and others laughing, he heard a child go up 
to its mamma, and say, " Ma, mamma, don't cry, pray 
don't cry, for they say as how it's all sAaw." 

No. 2. — Another of the same sort. 

A gentleman went to call upon Lady H[amilton], who 
had not seen her since Sir W[illiam]'s death. On entering 
the room she burst into a flood of tears and cried out^ 
" Ah ! he's gone ! " The gentleman made some remark 
upon the occasion, and she repeated, " Ah I he^s gone — 
at four o'clock this morning." At this the gentleman 


Digitized by 



stared, knowing Sir W[illiam] had been dead more than 
a month ; when he discovered that " he's gone ! ** alluded 
to Lord Nelson, who was that morning gone to his ship. 
Being a great friend of Sir Wtilliamjs, the getitleman felt 
provoked and hurt, and left the room without attempting 
to give her any consolation. 

No. 3. — The irresistible Duchess. 

Her Grace was driving about the streets in searck of 
a house, when all of a sudden she exclaimed, *^ IVe got 
one 1 *' and desired the coachman to drive to Lord Fife's. 
My Lord was no/ at home ; but she made her way up stairs 
and found him at a late breakfast. 

" My Lord, you were in love with me five-and-twenty 
years ago, and 1 am now come to ask a favour of you." 

" Ma*am, I admit the fact ; but as 1 cannot boast of 
any favour your Grace bestowed upon me, I don*t see 
what claim you derive from that circmnstance.'* 

" My Lord, it matters not ; I have a favour to ask, 
nor shall I stir from this chair till it is granted.'* 

She then asked for Lord Fife's house. In Vain he 
remonstrated, and gave her a great many reasons why 
it could not be. Nevertheless, he was out of it in a ^eek, 
and her Grace in full possession. Nor has she lost 4hy 
time in opening it — bsJls, petit soupers, &c. But What 
improves the story much is, what I dare say you know, 
that the two f amiUes have been at daggers draum for these 
fifteen years on accoimt of politics. 

No. 4. 

The same lady, when attending upon Lady Louisa 
Broome, in her lying-in, turned round to the doctor : — 
" Remember, Sir, I engage you for this time twelve- 
month. My Georgie is just going to be married — ^mind 
you are engaged to her," 

Digitized by 


From an engnxving after a painting by Madante Lebntn 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 



No. 5. 

Having married all her daughters, she saj^ now she 
must set about marrying herself to her old Duke again. 

Marriages as is to be — Interest leads to the altar. 

Lady Geoiigiana G[ordon] with the Duke of B[edf ord]. 
Miss Legge with Mr. Dutton (Lord Sherborne). 
Miss Curzon with Mr. Cholmondeley. 
Miss Clement with Mr. Milner. 
Miss Blackburn with Mr. Leigh. 
Lady Mary Paget with Lord Graves. 
Lady Caroline Paget with Lord Inniskillen. 
Mrs. Bradshaw with Sir H. Peyton. 
Miss L. Crofton with Col. Maitland, who was so much 
in love with Miss Thurlowe. 

This is all the London news I can send you, which is 
but little. It must suffice you for the present, however, 
and for the time being I will say adieu. 

Believe me always your faithful 

" Blue Beard." 

(Such is the name lately given me by Her Royal 
Highness, the Lord knows why), alias H. Englefield, 
Anacharsis, Adonis, John Julius Angerstein, W. Gell, 
&c., &c. 

From Mrs. [ ] to [ ]. 

My dear [ ], — Since you have determined upon 

this step, I will say no more to dissuade you therefrom 
except that I sincerely hope it may be productive of 
pleasure and advantage to you in every way. You quite 
mistook my sentiments if you suppose that I meant to 
express any personal dislike or disapprobation towards the 
Pxincess of Wales : it was entirely worldly considerations 

Digitized by 



that made me advise you to reflect well before you 
placed yourself in a situation which must, from the nature 
of things, be one of dangers and difficulties ; and certainly, 
whoever embraces the service of the Princess of Wales, 
as matters now stand between her and the Prince, place 
themselves (or at least nm a great risk of doing so) for 
ever out of the pale of his favour. Now, as he is the 
person in whom all power and authority will be vested, 
in a worldly point of view, it is his countenance that is 
alone worth seeking. Au resUy I beUeve the Princess to 
be exceedingly amiable — ql true and zealous friend to all 
those whom she once takes en amitiS ; and is moreover 
an excessively agreeable companion, fuU of natural talent, 
and combines in a surprising manner the dignity of her 
position with an unaffected and natural ease very rarely 
seen in a Princess. It is, indeed, only fair to add, that 
she makes it a point to draw about her all the clever and 
agreeable persons she can ; and that, particularly in a 
royalty^ is no small merit. There are no courtiers or 
parasites in the society at Kensington ; it is chosen with 
great discrimination and impartiality, from all that is 
most distinguished in rank and talent, and, above all, 
agrSmefU is the greatest attraction a person can have for 
Her Royal Highness. You have hitherto been no poli- 
ticiany but you must become one, for the Princess will 
call upon you in that way. She is now flaming against 
the present Ministers, and inviting to the palace all she 
can collect of the Opposition. You will have a great 
advantage in this circumstance, as no one can deny that 
they are, with some few exceptions, a more agreeable body 
of people en masse than the principal heads of the Tory 

You ask me to tell you something of the individuals 
who form the Princess of Wales's household, and if they 
are persons of amiable and agreeable qualities. I can 
give, you a most satisfactory reply to this inquiry. They 

Digitized by 



are all known to me personally, some more and some less ; 
but, through others of my friends who are intimate with 
several of them, I am able to say that I feel sure you will 
find them all particularly honourable and superior persons. 
Of Lady Cpiarlotte] L[indsa]y's wit, and proverbial 
good humoiu: and kindness of heart, you must be well 
acquainted ; her sister, also, though less brilliant, is fully 
as amiable. Miss G[ar]th is a very estimable character, 
simple-minded, and very downright in all she sa}^, and 
Uttle suited to a Court, except from her high principles 
and admirable caution, which indeed render her a safe 
and desirable attendant upon royalty. Miss Hayman 
is shrewd and sensible ; she has strong sense and good 
judgment ; she pla}^ well on the piano-forte, and under- 
stands the science of music, and has very agreeable 
manners, though not polished ones. All these persons 
are totally different from the common-place run of cha- 
racter, and the Princess's selection of such persons does 
her infinite credit, as they are of a very different quality 
from those who generally occupy places at a Court. 

Amongst the visitors at Kensington you will frequently 
see Messrs. Rogers, Luttrell, Ward, and a host of brilliant 
spirits ; so that I think I may with safety predict for you 
a pleasant Ufe at the palace. I have only one piece of 
advice to give you ; it is, not to receive any confidences. 
Be firm, and decline being made the repository of any 
secrets. This course is the only one that can ensure 
your own safety and comfort. I will also tell you an 
anecdote related to me by one of the ladies in Her Royal 
Highnesses service : — Upon one occasion, the Princess 

wished to visit a person whom Lady [ ] knew it was 

not wise for her to frequent, and she ventured to express 
her opinion upon the subject to the Princess, upon which 
the latter was much displeased, and said there was nothing 
she so much disliked and despised as advice. Lady 
[ ] never repeated the dose, as you may suppose^; 

Digitized by 



and I have told you this drcumstance to put you on your 
guard, that you may not incur the same rebuke. 
^ I have now informed you of all I know respecting 
the Princess and her entourage, so I will conclude^ begging 
you to believe me, &c. 

[ — ^1 

From the same. 

My dear [ ], — ^The Duchess of Brunswick is dead. 

Doubtless you are aware of the event ; but I write to 
say that I would recommend your sending to inquire 
after the Princess of Wales, for, poor soul ! she is much 
vexed at the carelessness of all the royal family, in never 
having condoled with her on the occasion ; and also 
many private persons, who ought to have paid Her Royal 
Highness this respect and attention, have neglected to 
do so, and she has, I know, been much hurt, and com- 
plained to Miss H[ayma]n that the manner in which she 
was treated was most unkind. I would not have you 
negligent towards Her Royal Highness ; and knowing, 
as you do, that, in fact, this event will not render the 
Princess long or exceedingly unhappy, I thought you 
would perhaps not consider it worth while to write on 
the occasion, whereas I am certain it would pain Her 
Royal Highness if you did not do so. Miss H[ayman} 
told me she was much affected on first hearing of the 
Duchess's death ; which I can believe ; for although 
her mother's habits and tastes did not suit the Princess, 
and she disliked the dulness of her house and society, 
the Princess is too good-hearted not to regret the death 
of so near a relative ; and she most touchingly observed 
to Miss H[ayman], " There is no one alive now who cares 
for me except my daughter, and her they will not suffer 
to love me as she ought or is inclined to do." 

The Princess also said : " True, my moder behave 
ill to me several times, and did eat hiunble pie to the 

Digitized by 



Queen an4 the Prince ; yet she only did so from cowardice ; 
she was grown old> and was soon terrified^ but she love 
me for all that." 

This remark was perfectly just, and in fact I know, 
from many conversations I had with the Duchess of 
Brunswick, that such was the case. I hear that the 
Uttle property she was able to leave she has bequeathed 
to the Princess of Wales. I am glad to hear it, for I 
fancy the latter is much in need of a Uttle pecuniary 
assistance, and every mickU makes a tnuckle, as the Scotch 

sa3ang is. I hope poor Mr. H[ ], however, will not 

risk his own interests by serving the Princess, and for- 
warding Her Royal Highness much more money, for I 
do not think he would stand a good chance of getting 
paid if anything befell Her Royal Highness. 

I dined at Kensington about three weeks ago. There 

were Lord and Lady C[ ]t, and Mr. Ward, Mr. Luttrell, 

Lord Byron, and Lady Oxford, and the party was ex- 
ceedingly agreeable. I never saw any person, ^ot royal 
or royal, who understood so well how to perform the 
honours at their own table as the Princess : she does it 
admirably, and makes more of her guests thw any one 

eke ever did. Lady C[ ] is beautiful, and i^ so geQtle, 

and seems to wish so much to improve herself, that she 
is quite interesting. I went to see her picture the other 
day, painted by Lawrence : I should never have known 
it was intended for her, it is so Uttle Uke ; but it is a lovely 
picture — I think one of his best. I saw poor Lady Maria 

H[ ]n yesterday at A[ ] House. She was quite 

overcome at seeing me, aQd scarcely could speak. She 
is grown thin with anxiety, an4 the scene of woe which 
she constantly witnesses in her sister's dying state has 
quite softened the asperity of her manners. From that 
melancholy visit I also went to another, where I witnessed 
naore gloom : it was at Mrs. Nugent's ; but I only saw 
hef 4^ughter, for she herself is too ill to see any one. Ifiss 

Digitized by 



[ ] appears clever, and has something remarkable in 

her appearance and manners ; but whether 'tis for good 
or bad I cannot say. Her poor mother has been cruelly 

treated, I think, by the Duke of C[ ] ; yet what right 

had she to expect any other result to her own folly ? 
I met at the Duchess of Leinster's, some days since, a 
daughter of the Lord Edward Fitzgerald's, a girl of about 
fifteen years of age, with a most beautiful coimtenance, 
and a captivating manner and voice, which added to the 
interest one felt in looking at her father's child. Your 

friend Mrs. C. L[ ]k is grown into an old woman. Her 

countenance is all hard lines upon an orange ground. I 
met her at the Duchess of Leinster's, and she inquired 

much after you, as also did Lady W. G[ ]n, whom I 

found as usual, simmering^ as she calls it, in a high-backed 
old chair, which she told me was Mr. George Selwyn's, 
of witty memory. I do not like the arrangement of her 
house in the Park which looks so pretty outside. Lady 

W[ ] talked in a strange manner upon strange subjects. 

I do not like speaking of religious matters, and mixing 
such sacred topics with the common-place and frivolous 

conversation of the day ; but Lady W[ ] is very 

eloquent and very clever in all her remarks, and it is 
exceedingly amusing to hear her set forth all her curious 
thoughts. How very different a character hers is from 

her sister. Lady H[ ] I Who could suppose them 

related so nearly to one another. 
I am interrupted, and so compelled par force to bid 

you adieu, my dear [ ], which I ought to have done 

before now, as I fear you will be tired of this long letter. 
Believe me, yours, &c. 

[ — ^] 

From the same. 

I was commanded, dear [ ], by the Princess of Wales 

(with whom I had the honour of dining last night) to ask 

Digitized by 



you to return to Her Royal Highness some books she lent 
you ; and I take this opportunity, therefore, to add a few 
lines to inquire after all that interests you, and to tell you 
a little about myself. In the first place, I must speak of 
the party I was at last evening at Kensington, which 
consisted of Mr. Arbuthnot, Lord Palmerston, Lady C. 
L[indsay], Mr. Gell, and Lewis. To use the Princess's own 
words, " dey all do their little possible to be agreeable ; " 
and, as you are well acquainted with them, you can judge 
how pleasantly the party went off. Lord Palmerston 
pays the Princess great court : he is not a man to despise 
any person or thing by which he can hope to gain power ; 
he has set his heart thereon, and most likely he will succeed 
in his ambition, like all those who fix their minds steadily 
to the pursuit of one object ; though, except a pleasing 
address, it does not appear to me that he has any great 
claim to distinction. There is one strange drcmnstance 
connected with him, namely, that, though he is suave and 
pleasant in his manners, he is unpopular. I wonder what 
is the reason. The Princess is not, I believe, reaUy partial 
to him, but she is aware that his countenance is of some 
weight and advantage to her, and she is right to conciliate 
his favour. 

I was very sorry to see the Princess of Wales in low 
spirits, and to hear her allude several times to leaving 
England, saying, she had no comfort or happiness in this 
country. She laughed very much in relating to us Lady 

A[ Js advice, which was that she should reside at 

Brunswick, " where Lady A[ ] told me I should still be 

under de pertection of de English. Mein Gott ! I would 
sooner be buried alive dan live there ; it is de dullest place 
in de world ; fuU of noting but old German spinsters and 
professors of colleges. No, no, when I leave England, it 
will be to see all dat is best worth seeing on de continent. 
I go to amuse myseiiy else'^I might stay in Connaught 
Place." I could not help thinking that perhaps this was 

Digitized by 



not a wise strain of conversation to hold liiefore Lord 
Palmerston ; but you know it is in vain to annoy one's 
self with thinking of the consequences of what the Princess 
sa}^, as nothing ever prevents her saying what comes into 
her Toydl head at the moment. We all with one accord 
agreed in expressing our r^ets at Her Royal Highness's 
intended departure, and assured her that we did not think 
she would like the continent as a residence ; to which 
she repUed, " Ah, my dear friends, 'tis all very pohte in 
you to say you wish me to remain in England, mais 1 
you do not Imow all I sufier here ; and, as to yourselves, 
you will soon forget me and my dullefiications ; no, dere 
is notings to keep me in dis country, and I go." I was 
very near saying. Good heavens I Madam, and the 
Princess Charlotte, is she no tie to you to remain in 
England ? but fortunately I restrained the expression 
of my thoughts ; and after a pause, which every one 
present appeared to feel awkward, we spoke of indifierent 
subjects, and became very merry, — ^which a good supper 
contributed to in no small degree. I forgot to mention 
that I think the rudeness an4 total neglect of all the e 
foreign potentates towards the Princess has very much 
vexed and mortified her : and no wonder. I marvel at 
the Regent's being at)le to keep up such a perpetual 
system of unkindness and malignity against the Princess. 
I can understand great wrath for a time, but not retaining 
such a constant ill-will towards a person who after all 
has never done anythii^ to deserve such treatment. 

I was very angry at Madame de Stael also for her 
subserviency to the Regent's will ; it was beneath one 
so great, and I had believed so amiable. But she did not 
so consider the matter, and she gained the reward of her 
courtliness, for the Regent paid her every s^ttention. I 
h^e h^r 4^ughter very much, and fear that Ma4ame de 
gf ael's yiews of forming an aUiance for her with an J^ngUsh 
miibte are not likely to be tealize4, and thl^t ii they wefe^ 

Digitized by 



it is exceedingly doubtful that they would be productive 
of happiness to any of the parties. 

And now I must say, adieu. 

Dear [ ], beUeve me, yours, &c. 

From Mr. [ ] to [ ]. 

My dear [ ], — I am just returned from the drawing- 
room held in honoiu: of Princess Charlotte's marriage ; 
it was exceedingly brilliant, and Her Majesty was most 

gracious to myself and Lady [ ]; but the Regent 

turned his back upon the latter, took no notice of her, and 
pretended to be busy talking with some other person. 
This conduct was at variance with His Royal Highness's 
proverbial courtesy and good breeding, and in my opinion 
was also worse even than a breach of the civility due to a 
lady, and one who in every way is so deserving of respect ; 
for it betrayed a spirit of meanness and anger at her for 
having been in the service of the Princess of Wales, of 
which I should have thought him incapable. But so it 
was, and I could not help recurring to the assurances he 

had made to Lady [ ]'s friends, when he was first 

informed of her being about to enter the Princess of 
Wales's service, that he never should in any way resent 
her doing so, but that he was well aware that circumstances 
in some degree compelled the lady in question to avail 
herself of the ofFer. How much his conduct yesterday 
was at variance with this kind and generous manner 
of expressing himself at the time to which I allude I 
Certainly, with regard to any matters connected with 
the Princess of Wales, the Regent cannot conmiand his 
feelings, and, like murder, they will out, in despite of his 
usual urbanity and caution. , 

Lady [ ] was not in the least annoyed by this circum- 
stance. Most other persons would have been so, but she 
was not at all flurried by the Regent's unpoUte reception oi 

Digitized by 



her, and on my remarking how surprised I was at her com- 
posure, she made me a reply, which no less surprised than 
it pleased me, — " La raison est tout simple," said she, " I 
did not feel to blame in any way, and therefore I was not 
put to confusion by the Prince Regent's rudeness, feeling 
conscious that I did not deserve to be so received. I was 
spared all the awkwardness I must have experienced had I 
been guilty of anything that could have given His Royal 
Highness a right to treat me in such an uncivil manner." 
The said drawing-room was, as you are aware, held 
in Buckingham House. Princess Charlotte stood apart 
from the royal circle, in a window, with her back to the 
light ; she was deadly pale, and did not look well. It 
struck me that the expression of pleasure on her coun- 
tenance was forced. Prince Leopold was looking about 
him with a keen glance of inquiry, as if he would like to 
know in what light people regarded him. The Queen 
either was, or pretended to be, in the highest possible 
spirits, and was very gracious to everybody, including 

Lady [ ]. All the time I was in that courtly scene, 

and especially as I looked at Princess Charlotte, I could 
not help thinking of the Princess of Wales, and feeling 
very sorry and very angry at her cruel fate. True, 
between friends, she has often been much to blame for 
folly and imprudence ; but, when we consider of how 
tenfold more acts of a reprehensible nature her accusers 
have been guilty, it is impossible not to feel indignant at 
the injustice of her being put down from her proper sphere, 
when others equally, if not more blamable, are suffered 
to remain in the full possession of all their honours. 
Surely, such a state of things will not be allowed to go 
on long ; some more just spirit will arise, and ask for 
redress for this poor Princess. I shall be happy when I 
hear that some able person brings the subject boldly 
forward to public notice ; at the same time that I fear 
it will be the means of making a great commotion in the 

Digitized by 



country, and wiser heads than mine predict the possibility 
of this subject producing a civil war, if not most dexter- 
ously managed by the reigning powers. Then, again, 
I am told that the Princess will inevitably conunit some 
enormous act of folly, that will ruin her cause ; and that, 
besides the heedless recklessness of her own disposition, 
every possible means will be taken to make her say or 
do something which will enable the Regent to set her 
aside, and for ever sink her into insignificance, if not 
disgrace. I can scarcely beheve these reports, yet they 
are circulated by many sensible and dispassionate persons, 
who are neither violently for nor against either party. 
Alas ! every one's own experience more than suffices to 
prove to them that " Us plus fort onL toujours raison " in 
this world ; yet I would fain hope that this oppressed 
lady (for that she certainly is) may be restored to her 
rightful position in society. Nay, I am certain the country 
would never permit her, if only as Princess Charlotte's 
mother, to be crushed and defamed, without a proper 
examination of the justice of the condemnation. 

I dare say Princess Charlotte was thinking of thejPrincess 
of Wales when she stood in the gay scene of to-day's 
drawing-room, and that the remembrance of her mother, 
excluded from all her rights and privileges in a foreign 
country, and left almost without any attendants, made 
her feel very melancholy. I never can understand how 
Queen Charlotte dared refuse to receive the Princess of 
Wales at the public drawing-room, any more than she 
would any other lady, of whom nothing had been pubhcly 
proved against her character. Of one thing there can 
be no doubt, — ^the Queen is the slave of the Regent. 

I must say adieu, and beheve me, &c. 

Digitized by 



From Monsieur Sismondi. 

Paris, Rue Grbnbllb St. Gbrmain, No. 26, Lundi. 

CuERE [ ], — C'est k Paris que votre gentille lettre 

m'est parvenue. J'y ai vu avec joie que vous ne m'aviez 
point oubli6, que vous mettiez encore quelque prix k 
mon vif attachement, et que vous sentiriez du plaisir k 
notre reunion, mais en m^e terns j'ai vu cette reunion 
renvoyfe bien loin. H61as, elle est devenue bien probl£m- 
atique. Vous me donnez vos visions proph^tiques tm 
my future fame and future fortuney et puis vous me plaisante 
comme si je croyois d6ji tenir en partie cet avenir brillant 
que vous me promettez. H61as, je suis bien 61oign6 
d'avoir tant de pretension. J'ai trac6 autour de moi 
le petit cercle que je parcourerai ; je mesure assez bien 
tout ce que je puis jamais obtenir de reputation, et le 
trfts modique fortune qui y sera jamais jointe, et il ne faut 
point pour cela, je vous assure, aspire k des hauteurs 
propre k toumer la tfite. Mais la partie de ce rftve la 
plus agrdable pour moi c'est la facility qu'il m'a donn6 
de voir et de connoitre des gens que je suis heureux 
d'aimer ; c'est im profit bien r6el dA aux lettres, qui 
m'ont introduit auprfis de vous et votre bienveiUance. 
C'est encore k elle que je dois ce point de vue d'oii je jouis 
k mon aise d'observer ici la socidtd. C'est une chose 
trds-curieuse que la marche de I'opinion en deux sens 
diam^tralement oppose les prpgrds joumaliers que font 
les id6es lib6rales dans le peuple, le retours toujours plus 
impudent des courtisans aux anciens usages, aux anciens 
absurdes prejug6es. Tons les emigres, tons les roj^alistes, 
tons ceux qui par vanity ou par int^r^t veulent 6tre con- 
f ondu avec les unes ou les autres, ne regardent la restaura- 
tion que comme le commencement de la contre-r^volution. 
lis y travaillent dte lors avec z61e ; chaque jour ils font 
un pas pour opprimer quelque forme lib6rale, pom: ^carter 
quelque personne qui ne leur soit pas d^vou^. Le Roi 

Digitized by 



s*est tirt, au commencement, de la grande difficulty de 
rdgne avec les instnimens m6m6 du gouvemement qu'il 
venoit de ddtruire ; mais dans ces six mois il a d6ji trouv6 
moyen de recompense! k sa guise ime grande partie des 
6tat-ma]ors, Tarmde des pr^fecteurs, et de toute Fad- 
ministration civile et judiciaire, Ces messieurs sont 
beaucoup plus dans ses mains qu*ils n'6toient alors, 
les marins lui ont beaucoup prte 6chapp6, et Farm e6de 
la peuple ont oubli6 les malheurs de la guerre pour ne 
se souvenir que de sa gloire. Le rentrde des ^migr^s 
dans tons les cadrens de Tarmde, dans toutes les places 
lucratiVes et honorables, blessoit d6ji les sentimens 
nationaux ; Tinsolence qu*il y ont d6ploy6e les blesse 
davantage encore, toute irritation, toute animosity contre 
les prfitres et la noblesse, avoient complfetement cess^ 
sous le gouvernement pr6c6dent ; on reprenoit pour eux 
une disposition aux egards que la commiseration pour 
des long malheurs rendroit plus delicate. Aujourdhui 
on ne voit plus en eux que personnalite, arrogance, 
faussete, et bassesse ; le peuple, k la haine qui dclata 
contre eux au commencement de la t^volution, a joint 
le m6pris, et une r&tction violente deviendra in6vitable- 
ment la consequence d*une irritation si g6n6rale, d'une 
fermentation qui s'est etendue de la capitale dans toutes 
les provinces. II est difficile au reste de savoir k quand 
sont ajournfe les scenes nouvelles de d&ordre et de 

Votre Princesse dfe Galle Va-t-elle en Grfece ? On dit 
qu'elle ne se conduit pas k Como avec une grande pru- 
dence. II est vrai que la prudence qu'on lui demande 
c'est de m6nager des sentimens qu'elle ne partage point, 
et qui ne sont peut-fitre pas les meilleurs. L*accusation 
contre notre amie,* qu'on taxe aussi d'imprudence, etoit 
d'avoir repondue par une lettre de simple remerciement 
k des oflEres de Murat. Elle le nie express6ment ; quand 

• Madame de Stael. 

Digitized by 



il seroit vraie, il n'y auroit pas eu grand mal ; la chose 
est au reste absoluement oubli6e. Notre amie a aujourd'- 
hui la promesse positive du payement de ses deux millions. 
Elle marie sa fille au Due de Broglie, homme de beaucoup 
d^esprit, d'excellens principes, ag6 de vingt-neuf ans, 
d*une jolie figure, mais qui k trte peu de fortune : le 
manage se fera au mois d'Avril. Albertine en paroit 
fort heureuse. 

Je viens de voir arriv6 hier ici une autre belle ^pous6e. 
Lady Elizabeth Bingham, avec son pftre Lord Lucan ; 
ils vont rejoindre i Londres Monsieur Vernon ♦ : les deux 
autres filles sont rest^es k Florence sous la garde de Lady 
William Bentinck, &c. &c. 

From the same to the same. 

Sir James Mackintosh arriva hier, avec sa belle Baby- 
lonienne, qu'il avoit rencontr^e k Bale ; mais il repartit 
dis le surlendemain. Cette jeime femme, qui a travers6 
k cheval toute TAssyrie, rArm6nie, TAsie Mineure ; 
qui, ne voyageant qu'avec des hommes, 6toit elle-m6me 
habill6 en Warrior Tartare ; d^vroit f aire peur, avec de 
sabres et de pistolets, k ceux qui auroient os6 1'approcher. 
Elle est cependant johe, ddlicate, et l^fere, quoiqu'eUe 
ait ^ la joue une cicatrice qui ne ressemble pas nial au 
coup d'une arme k feu. Sa conversation £toit piquante, et 
on auroit 6t6 tent6 de lui faire la cour, comme k toute 
autre jolie femme, quand le voyage qu'elle achfeve k 
peine, et qu*elle va recommencer, ne Tauroit pas rendue 
une dtre extraordinaire. Mais elle ne fait que passer. 

Vous aurez auprte de vous avant ma lettre les Glen- 
bervies, qui vous diront combien ils ont eu de provenance 
pour moi. Lord Lucan, Lord Binning, &c., sont partie. 
Monsieur Macdonald part ce matin. Lord Ranclifie 

* They were married in May 1815. 

Digitized by 



fait le tour du lac. II ne reste plus enfin aue les Butes, 
que je n'ai point vue, et les Conyngnams. Celles des 
soci6t& de Genfeve qui m'est agr^able, et que vous n'avez 
gufere pu voir parcequ'elles 6toient toute dispersee dans 
les campagnes, ne rentrerons pas de deux mois k la ville ; 
le reste de celles que vous avez vue sont trop d^color^ 
une fois que vous n*y 6tes plus. II faut done par n6ces- 
sit6 se faire d'autres ddlassemens, se jeter dans la politique, 
et celle de notre petite viUe, anim^e par un si petit esprit, 
a bien peu d'attrait. Notre grand conseil, notre Parlc- 
ment, a recommence sa session au milieu de la semaine, 
mais il est encore perdu dans les formes ; il n'a eu que 
des Sections k faire ; personne n'a ouvert la bouche, et 
nous ne pourrons point encore pr6juge quelle sera cette 
eloquence Genevoise, dont il doit devenir T^cole. 

De dehors, j'ai de bonnes nouvelles sur la parfaite 
sflrete des routes d'ltalie ; le plupart des contes de 
voleurs, dont on nous avoit entretenus, paroissent n'avoir 
aucune fondement. J'ai aussi une lettre de Madame 
de Stael, dont le fils qu'on disoit parti ne partira point 
pour la SuMe avant le fin du mois. Elle est triste, et 
cependant rien ne va mal pour eUe ; mais il est difficile 
qu'aucune lettre qu'on 6crit ne fasse faire des retours 
m^lancoliques sur soi-m6me ; on se livre au mouvement 
du monde tant qu'on est anim6 par la conversation, mais 
on retrouve toute ses am^res pens6es quand on est seul, 
et quand on rend compte de soi-m6me k \m ami. 

Voili toute notre Gazette ; vous voyez comme elle 
est peu vari6e, mais je vous la donne pour vous engager 
i me donner la v6tre, &c. &c. &c. 


From the same to the same. 

Toute ma soci6t6 Britannique est partie. Je Tai trop 
aim^e pour prendre beaucoup de goiit k celle qui leur 
n z 


I \ . - ■ 


Digitized by 



succdde, et ]*en suis reduit k faire dommage k notre petit 
Gonseil de tout ce qui me reste d'amour ou d'humeur. 
La politique est devenue mon pis aller. J'ai regu une 
lettre de Monsieur Camille Jouidain, qui, par ses r^rets 
de ne vous avoir point vu, augmente les miens. Monsieur 
Jourdain s'int6resse pour ma brochure des n^res ; en 
g6n£ral elle parott avoir du succfis, et Monsieur Wilber- 
force m'a 6cnt k cette occasion de la mani^ la plus 
flatteuse, en m'envoyant une de ses demises ouvrages. 
Mais d'autre part, j'ai re9u la plus impertinente lettre 
d'une dame de Lausanne que jamais femme s'est permis 
d'&:rire k une homme. Cest une faigotte qui, dit-elle, 
a 6t6 ruin6e par la revolution de St. Dominique ; qui 
r^ard les amis des noirs comme les ennemies des blancs, 
et les auteurs de tons les massacres, et qui m'accusoit 
volontiers d'etre Ath6e et Antropophage, pour avoir 
fcrit une brochure qu'elle m*a renvoy6. Je ne m'atten- 
dois pas k ce qu'on soutien d'un ton si haut la cause de 
la ffrocite. 

Vous faisez sur quelques rapports bien de Thonneur k 
Lyon, de vous rappeler de Londres k cause des mouvemens 
de ses rues ; il me semble qu'on s'y sent terriblement 
dans une ville de province, dans une ville marchande, 
oA Ton ne suppose pas mfane qu'U dfit y trouver une 
bonne soci£t6 ; mais en revanche quelle situation admir- 
able, et si les provinces du midi avoient dft avoir une 
capitale, quelle ville mieux plac6e pour Tfetre que Lyon ! 
Vous n*avez probablement rien pu voir de ces bords de 
la Seine, qui sont d'une si admirable beaut6, ni de ce 
vieux fauxbourg de Veze, quelquefois si pittoresque. 
Moi aussi je dis souvent que j'aurois aim6 faire ce voyage 
avec vous. Vous aimez admirer, et moi j'aime ceux 
qui admirent, et j'aiu'ois eu plus d'objets k admirer que 
vous. A pr&ent vous 6tes dans un pays que je ne 
cennciis point, mais que je crois ressembler trte fort k 
notre Toscane. Toute cette rividre de Gtee est de mteie 

Digitized by 



nature, et le revers^ de rAppenin,^ plantds d'oliviers, 
entremfelfe de champs et de vignes, des villages plants 
k la cime des montagnes ou au bord de la mer — ces terraces 
les lines au dessus des autres — ^forment des objets toujours 
varices, mais pourtant tons de la m&me famille. II 
me semble done que je me repr&ente fort bien le ^ys 
oA vous etes ; je voudrois que mon imagination vous 
peignoit aussi bien vous-m6me k mes yeux ; mais k cet 
^ard je ne me contente pas — ^il s'en faut beaucoup, 
Depuis ma lettre commencde j'en ai re5U ime d'Albertine 
de Stael, qui me dit que sa m6re n'est pas tr6s-bien de 
sant6, et que quoique sa maison soit trte brillante, elle 
semble ne plus trouver de grandes jouissances dans la 
soci6t6. Je suis r^ellement bien inquiet du bonheur futur 
de Madame de Stael ; elle s*est livr6e k chacun de ses 
goAts avec tant de vivacit6 qu'elle a 6puis6 tout ce qtfils 
pourroit lui donner de jouissances. Pendant bien des 
ann6es le bonheur supreme 6toit pour elle de rentier k 
Paris ; depuis qu'elle y est rentr^e elle s*est tristement 
apperjue que ce bonheur suprfime ne ce trouve pas, et 
cependant elle n'a point appris k s'en passer. Le portrait 
que ne fait Albertine de votre Lord Wellington ne me 
s6duit point ; il paroit cependant qu*il a pris beaucoup 
d'attachement pour sa m^e, et qu'il est trte frequemment 
chez elle. II n'y a rien de nouveau ni sur leurs afiaires 
d^argent ni sur aucun projet de mariage. 

Siirement il est sage et convenable d'aller k Paris 
cet hiver. Comme je Pavois comt6, j'y terminerai et 
j'y imprimerai mon livre, j'y trouverai bien aussi des 
amis et du plaisir ; mais je ne me reprocherai pas k moi- 
m6me d*avoir laisser et le soin de mon bien et celui des 
affaires publiques uniquement pour satisf aire mes goflts ; 
j'aurois un pr^texte avec moi-mfime, et c'est presque 
aussi important que d'en avoir avec les autres : c'est 
pr&istoient dans un mois que je compte partir. Notre 
session de corps Idgislatif ne sera pas termini, mais comme 

Digitized by 



je m*y trouve constamment dans la minority, ce cera 
avoir assez long temps soutenu la lutte. Cette icole 
pour parler en public a 6t€ fort nouvelle pour moi, et k 
tout prendre, fort agr6able. Je ne savois point si je 
pourrois m'en tirer ; je m'attendis k fitre interdit — k ne 
pouvoir pas mettre une phrase aprte Pautre ; — ^mais je 
s^ait cependant que je me forme, et il y a presque autant 
de plaisir k parler dans notre r6publique Liliputienne 
que dans le Parlement Britannique, puisque les questions 
que nous d6battons, — ^I'^tablisement d'une troupe solddt, 
les impdts, Tinstitution de Tordre judiciaire, le code 
p6nal, — sont pour chaque citoyen d'un int&fet parfaite- 
ment ^jal que. ♦ ♦ ♦ 

Je regrette seulement quelquefois que personne ne 
nous entende. Entre autres des vieux pr6jug6s de nos 
magistrats que nous attaquerons, j'espfere que nous 
parviendrons k les d6goflter de la ridicule fermeture de 
nos portes. Je vais essayer de vous envoyer par la poste 
une nouvelle brochure que je viens de publier sur les 
n^es ; elle est jointe k une troisifime Edition de celle 
que vous connoissez, mais Dieu sait si elle vous parviendra. 
Conservez-moi votre amiti^, et croyez k mon vif attache- 
ment comme k mon profond respect. 

(Dated) Geneve, Mardi. 

From Mrs. [ ] to the Hon. Mrs. [ ]. 

My dear [ ]y — I received your letter of the seventh, 

with great pleasure, but I wish you were safe at home, 
though as yet you have experienced no difficulty : but 
things are in such a state, one does not know what will 
happen. What a dreadful business this has been at 
Waterloo ! Every body directly or indirectly feels it, 
and every day one hears of some new cause of pity ; a 
true list, it is well known, has not been given, which is 
very wrong, for many people are in a dreadful state of 

Digitized by 



tuicertainty about their friends. Amongst others, Frank 
Moore till Saturday night was quite ignorant whether 
his only son was dead or alive ; but he got to speak to 
the Duke of York, who assured him he was quite safe ; 
a convincing proof they know more than they choose to 

There were illuminations at the public offices, but they 
were far from general. They say Wellington was never 
so near being beaten ; he saw the moment, and cried out, 
"Come, my bo}^, give them three cheers, and attack 
them ! " which was done with such force, that it decided 
the fate of the day. It is very evident he was determined 
to conquer or die. One may well say, as was said on 
another occasion, "such another victory would ruin 
us." We have been drawn upon for 36 milhons ! ! ! 
which they are giving away as fast as they ecu. The 
Duke of C[umberlan]d is come for money, and a settle- 
ment for his wife. I am assured he has obtained the 
latter request. 

There has been a French play at the Argyll Roontis 
by private subscription. At first it was very bad, but 
they have got some tolerable actors now ; they talk 
of going on with it next winter, but it is thought it will 
be stopped. 

London is very dull this season. Paris will now, I 
suppose, be the scene of all the rejoicings on this glorious 
victory. It is said, Bonaparte is in bad health ; and this 
overthrow to all his greatness will not mend it, I should 

suppose. Mrs. W[ ] and her tribe are well. We called 

one day at W[ ]'s, and found them tHe-i-tHe most 

uncomfortably; we went another to dear Strawberry, 
which is very well kept in her way. 

Believe me, dear [ ], &c. 

Digitized by 


Letter from Mrs. [ }. 


Every day since I have been here, dear [ % I have 

been myself to the post-office m vain, expecting a letter 
from you, till at length yesterday my eyes were gladdened 
by the sight of your handwriting. I told you in my last 
letter of our journey from Milan hither, which was not 
very interesting. The country is amazingly rich| and 
highly cultivated, but not very picturesque, till you come 
near the Apennines. We were two daiys and a half 
crossing them, — snow and tempest all the while. Florence 
swarms with English at this time. There are soirees 
twice a week at Madame Apponi's, the Austrian minister's 
wife ; they are both delightful people, but I cannot say 
much for the Florentine society. Madame Apponi sings 
delightfully, and so also does a Duchesse de Lanti ; but 
I believe the latter is not altogether a praiseworthy 
character, though she is one of the principal personages 
at Florence, and generally received, and paid great court 

to. The Duchesse, Madame A[ }, Magnelli, and 

David, the famous stage singer, are generally at Lady 
B[— — ]'s every Saturday evening, and they make her 
parties agreeable, otherwise they would be the most 
tiresome things possible, for it is impossible to have worse 
manners than her Ladyship ; she is like an ill-bred school 
miss, vulgarly familiar with one or two, and never speak- 
ing a word to the rest of her company. Lord B[— — ] is 
more agreeable and well-mannered, and is a delightful 

musician. Mr. P[ ], his secretary, likewise sings 

very well. Pretty Mrs. Cadogan is here, and Lord and 
Lady' Ponsonby, likewise. I saw^ Lady Glenbervie the 
day I^arrived here. She set off the next to Rome. She 
never hears from the Princess of Wales now, and has at 
length^discontinued writing ; as she received no answers 
to her letters, she concluded they were not welcome, or 

Digitized by 



that the Princess is dis^deased with her. Lady Glenbervie 
expressed herself with much kindness on this melancholy 
subject. Mr. Douglas was with the Glenbervies, which 
makes his mother quite happy. Poor Lady Bute is 
dying, I am sure ; she has been much worse lately. Mr* 
Burrell was dreadfully shocked at Lady Malpas's death, 
and indeed so were all the English here : it is supposed 

she died of consumption. Miss M[ ] will be setting 

her cap, I dare say, at Lord Malpas, as soon as it is decent 
to do so. Do you not think Lord Aberdeen's marriage 
to Lady Hamilton an odd circmnstance ? She has not 
mourned het first husband long. 

Is it true that the Prince Regent purposes trying to 
get a divorce from his unhappy consort, so soon as he 
is King, and that she enforces her right to being Queen ? 
I do not approve of her conduct, but I am exceedingly 
sorry for her, and think she has been as much sinned 
against as sinning. I should think and hope the Prince 
caA do her no further wrong. 

This Milan conmiission is an odious piece of business, 
and a disgrace to all those who have taken a part in it. 
The English here are generally in favour of the Princess, 
but she is doing all she can to forfeit their good opinion. 
I heard that Willikin had quarrelled with the courier^ 
and left the villa d'Este ; what have you heard on thid 
subject lately ? Willikin always appeared to me to be 
a well-behaved, sensible child. I trust this rogue will 
not be permitted to injure the poor boy, but I fear his 
power is unlimited. 

Lord B]nx>n passed through Florence a few days since, 

and dined at Lady [ Js, where I was invited ; but I 

did not like to gaze at him, though I wished it ; for there 
is something to me derogatory to feminine dignity in 
the effrontery of running after a man to stare at himi 
because he has written a clever work, or because he is 
4ptesfted in aoioje pettdiar QOAtume. It is, in my opinion^ 

Digitized by 



beneath a lady, and impertinent to a man's feelings, 
if he has any, to indulge in such rude ciuiosity, by court- 
ing his attention to such an extent as I have often seen 
ladies do towards Lord B3nron. I did not therefore 
pay him so much attention as I would have done a person 
of less celebrity : but at supper I sat next him, and he 
entered into conversation with me. The few words he 
spoke were uttered in a voice peculiarly melodious. As 
to his person, *tis nothing ; Ws coimtenance is replete 
with intelligence, but far from being regularly handsome. 
He appeared to me annoyed by the excess of attention 
lavished upon him by all the ladies ; apd I was much 
amused by one very ugly woman, who said she would go 
a thousand miles to see him, and whose ecstasy was so 
great when she was introduced to the poet, that I thought 
she would have fallen on her knees before him, — she 
was speechless with delight. But what made this lady's 
admiration so diverting was, that she is certainly one of 
the plainest people it is possible to see ; and I thought 
how the object of her adoration would ridicule the poor 
foolish woman. 

And now I have filled this sheet, and not said half 
what I have to say. I must employ the remnant of space 
left to me, to entreat you to write soon, and to believe 
me always yours, &c. 

From the same to the same. 

My dear [ ], — I learn that you are anxious to have 

some tidings of me, and I hasten to relieve your kind 
anxiety about myself. All Rome is quite distracted at 
the arrival of the Emperor, and at the expected galas 
which are to ensue at the same time. The Romans 
themselves look upon this visit as one of mauvaise augure 
to their ancient government and their ancient Pope. 
I went into the Corso yesterday, and looked at the show 

Digitized by 



from a window. The street was filled with an innumerable 
concourse of people of all descriptions. Tapestry and 
satin bed covers, &c., were suspended from the balconies, 
every one of which was crowded with well-dressed people ; 
in short, it was the Carnival over again, only without 
noise and in fine weather. After all, what was it set us 
all gaping, to see about twenty or thirty state carriages 
drive past, for it was not possible to distinguish tiie 
people in them ? Cannon fired from the Porta del 
Popolo, and was answered by the Castle of St. Angelo. 
Hats were slowly and unwillingly taken off. No huzzas, 
no tokens of approbation were bestowed upon the whole 
cavalcade, which passed along in a dead silence to the 
Monte Cavallo, where the Emperor had an interview 
with the Pope, which must have been short, as the Pope 
passed our house half an hour afterwards, on his usual 
airing ; and so ended this eventful entrde. It is said that 
Marie Louise was not permitted to come further than 
Florence, for wherever she appears, universal applause 
and acclamations ensue, in contradistinction to the marked 
coldness shown the Emperor. I have not yet heard what 
are the orders of the day in the way of entertainments 
or revels, pious or impious, as we have no ambassador 
here, and the English are generally disliked. I conclude 
we shall be all excluded from these festivities. Gell and 
Craven dined with us two days ago, — ^just as amiable, 
just the same as ever, — can I say more for them ? in short 
exactly what Lady Glenbervie used to say to her son, — 
not in the least improved : perhaps you will think otherwise, 
however, for Sir W. Gell is so far changed that much 
of his gay spirits are subdued, for he is quite a cripple 
from gout. Craven you will see shortly in England. 
I charged him to see you, which required no chaige. 
Lord Guildford is also here, and to remain here another 
week: he looks as well as ever, and is as charming. 
He dined with us yesterday. I see the Duchess of 

Digitized by 



Deronshire f reqtientiy ; sht is suave and pleasant in 
society, and is an invaluable friend here to the English. 
It is impossible to give 3rau an idea of how unpopular 
out country people have made themselves with the 
Romans. During the Carnival they did all sorts of vio* 
lent silly things, which have gained them this bad name. 
Sir William Gell heard a few days since from the Princesd 
of' Wales, and in her letter she hints at the probability 
of her returning soon to England. I hope she may put 
this good intention speedily into execution. Sir W. 
Gell is averse to remaining in her service, and, if she 
could find another eligible person to replace him, would 
resign his situation ; but he does not like to do so before 
Her BvyBl Highness has found a successor to himself* 
He is the kindest-hearted person in the world. 

Adieu, my dear [ ]. 

Believe me, 8cc. 

Digitized by 



Digitized by 


Digitized by 


No. I.* 

" June 27th. 

" T|k Mr Y DEAR [ ]y — I send you a new novel 

j^ /B of Madame de Genlis' * Mademoiselle 
I ^^ I de la Fayette.' I think it will interest 
JL ▼ JL. and amuse you at the same time. 
The subject is taken from the reign of Louis XIII. and 
Anne d'Autriche. The colouring of the characters has 
proved a very happy effort of genius, and, after my 
taste and my hiunble judgment, I think it one of the 
very best that ever she wrote, except *Les Vceux 

" I am in expectation this morning of seeing Madame 
de Stael, and I shall fairly give my opinion upon this 
new meteor, which is now in full blaze upon our atmo- 
sphere. I trust it will not be long before I shall have 
the pleasure of seeing you again. 

" Believe me, in the mean while, 
" Your affectionate 

"C. P." 

" I have opened my letter again, to announce to you 
that Miss Johnstone t is going to be married to Count 
St. Antonio, on account of her £40,000. 

" Lady Davy has not taken the least notice, by writing 

* These letters are printed with their original comments, which are 
not uninstructive. 

t The Duchess of Canizzaro. 

Digitized by 



or by verbal message, of keeping her promise to bring 
Madame de Stael to me, and I begin to suspect that 
Madame de Stael will be guided by the torrent, and may 
live this moment in the hopes of being introduced on the 
30th, *dans le Palais de la V6rit6.' — On the Friday 
following, which is the 2d July, I hear there will be 
given in Pall Mall also a great breakfast ' dans le Temple 
de la Justice/ I am determined to be very proud, 
and not to take one single step, if it is not entirely from 
Madame de Stael's own Impulse that she becomes ac- 
quainted with me ; but pray, if you have heard any thing 
on the subject, and that my suspicions riit on good 
foundation, let tne know, as I am quite resigned t« imy 
disappointment of that nature." 

It was even so. Madame de Stael did go with the 
torrent. She would not know the Princess, and paid 
the most servile court to the Regent, after she had once 
prevailed on him to visit her first. She insisted upon 
this unusual compliment being paid her, and she carried 
her point. The Prince did visit her in her lodgings. 
It is reported that she treated him cavalierly, and spoke 
in a strain of personal praise, which was too strong for 
his taste ; particularly dwelling on the beauty of the 
form of his legs, but saying very little to hun of the 
glories of his country, or the powers of his mind. The 
interview was not supposed to be pleasant to either 
party ; Qevertheless, Madame de Stael continued her 
adulatory conduct to the Prince. It was unlike her no- 
bility of character to shew disrespect to one of her own 
sex, or to join in a hue and cry against her, which, if it 
were foimded in truth, would not have been amiable, 
and, if it were false, was utterly unworthy of Madame de 
Stael. To' lend herself to any party, for any reward of 
court favour, was so totally unlike the principles she 
professed, and the general tenor of her conduct through 

Digitized by 



life, that, were it not for the discrepancies which exist 
in e^U human character, one could not credit that she 
should have acted thus ; but so it was. — ^She, who braved 
the political ire of Bonaparte, crouched to the social 
tyranny of George IV» 

No. II. 

**Dear [ ], — I should not so long have delayed 

answering your letter, which so earnestly requested a 
return, if I had not hoped to atone for my seeming 
neglect ; but, as I live in my little nutshell, like an 
hermit, and never meet Princes, Lords, nor Commons, 
and all such paraphernalia of ornaments, I cannot deco- 
rate our epistolary correspondence by a fine franc on the 
envelope of the letter. Nevertheless, I can assure you, 
in a situation like mine, the world and its blessings are 
seen in their just point of estimation ; but, when a 
blessing of real innate value gUdes before me, I catch it 
and strain it to my bosom with all the eagerness of 
poverty. Judge, then, of the transport with which I 
seize my pen, to apprize you that my daughter has 
acted with the greatest firmness, promptitude, and 
energy of character possible, in the very intricate business 
concerning her marriage. She has manoeuvred and 
conquered the Regent so completely, that there can be no 
more doubt that the marriage is broken off. The Prince 
hereditary of Orange was secretly sent for by the Regent, 
and arrived under the feigned name of Captain St. George. 
Under that same name, he presented himself next day 
at Warwick House, early in the morning. She was in 
bed, and had not expected him in this country. Miss 
Knight received him. She had afterwards a long con« 
versation with him, in which she shewed him every 
letter that had passed between her father and her upon 
that subject. She then declared to him that she never 

Digitized by 



would leave this country, except by an act of Parlia- 
ment, and by her own especial desire. She then desired 
that he might retire, and that she would not see him 
again till these matters were settled. Two days after 
he came again, and brought a message from the Regent, 
in which he proposed to her that he would forgive and 
forget every thing, and that she should immediately 
come to him, and that every thing should be arranged 
in the most amicable manner. She declared that she 
would not see her father, or any of the family, till their 
consent to her remaining in this country had been ob- 
tained, or that otherwise, the marriage would be broke 
ofi. She has received no answer since the course of a 
week from her father, and she supposes that the papers 
have been sent to Holland, to make the family there 
also a party concerned in a new political question for 
the future happiness of England. It has, in my opinion, 
nothing at all to do with the Dutch family. The Duchess 
of Oldenburgh, I believe, is her chief adviser, and, as 
she is a clever woman, and knows the world and man- 
kind well, my daughter cannot be in better hands. They 
are a great deal together, which makes the Regent 
outrageous, and his good looks and spirits will not be 
of long duration, if he will be beaten, ' plaU cotdure,'* by 
his daughter. She desired also not to see the Prince of 
Orange again, till she received the definitive answer 
upon her request. 

'' I am quite transfixed with astonishment that my 
daughter at last has resumed her former character of 
intrepidity and fortitude ; as her father frightens her 
in every manner possible, that her character would be 
lost in the world, by her fickleness to break off her 

marriage. My paying a visit, my dear [ ], will be 

either before the zzd of this month, or after, for as I 
intend merely to come to see you and enjoy your per- 
sonal society. I rather wish to meet nobody there. 

Digitized by 



and I wish to spend a few moments of our eternal 
friendship together. 

" With these sentiments, 
" I remain for ever, yours, 

"most truly and affectionately, 

"C. P." 

" Madame de Stael set off yesterday for Paris. I send 
you the will of Napoleon,* which I wrote con amore for 
your perusal ; you may show it to any body, but without 
my name." 

What a miserable view of human nature is here un- 
folded ! A daughter mistrusting her father, and, con- 
ceiving that a marriage was only proposed for her which 
should take her out of the kingdom. At the same time, 
it must be acknowledged, that if the Princess Charlotte 
was under this impression, it was reasonable she should 
arm herself against the dreaded evil ; and, had the 
Prince of Orange loved her truly, he could not have 
refused to accede to the terms on which she consented 
to become his bride. But a different fate awaited her : 
she had at least one gleam of brightness in her brief and 
melancholy career. She married a man to whom she 
gave her heart, and one who seemed worthy of the 

No. III. 

" Friday Morning, 

**My DEAR [ \ — ^Youmust beat half past eleven at 

Blackheath, on Monday ; I shall send you the carriage 
in time. You must be also so good to send through the 
bearer of this * Le gentil Troubadour ^^ which I think must 
be amongst your music, as it is not to be fotmd amongst 
mine, and young S[ ] is very anxious to have it back. 

* Something copied out of a French brochure. See page 301. 
U 2A 

Digitized by 



" The editor of the ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ has behaved quite scanda- 
lously ; he has been corrupted and bribed from Carlton 
House since a week ; and, though Dr. Warburton affirms, 

that so late as six weeks back, Mr. M[ ] has left him, 

having been under his care, and not even then believed 
to have been well, and he has been the creator of forging 
false letters, pretending to be from me to him, still the 
Editor will not relent, or hear reason, and will punish 
the whole fabricated correspondence, which is a false 
and foul one, in his next Sunday's paper. Poor Lady 

Anne and Lady P[ J are in the greatest alarm possible. 

I wish you would write a very strong contradiction for the 
Examiner, that this is a new trick played, and that the 
Editor of the ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ will not even sufEer Dr. Warburton, 

or the lawyer, to take an affidavit of Mr. M[ ys being 

mad. Write this to [ ^], and to [ ], and all our 

friends, that they do not any longer take the ♦♦♦♦*, 
as he must know that people of respectability do not 
like to be imposed on, and that every body may some 
day or other be liable to see forged letters of their's in 
the ♦♦♦♦♦. My servant is quite at your service. If 
you have any letters to send ready by him, he may 
wait, as he is besides going that way to town. 

" Heaven bless you, and believe me, for ever, 

" Yours, 
"C. P." 

It is impossible, at this distance of time, to sift the 
truth from the falsehood, respecting this transaction 
with editors of newspapers. To say the best of it, it 
is always to be lamented when ladies of rank and cha- 
racter enter into any discussion, or are in any way mixed 
up with similar stories. Certain it is, that after this 
time the Princess of Wales gradually dropped all intimacy 
with Lady P[ercival]. Whether she imagined that lady 
had in any way compromised her in this business, does 

Digitized by 



not appear ; but the intercourse between them ceased. 
How vain for the Princess to imagine that her command 
would suffice to make any one discard a newspaper or 
journal which might chance to amuse them ! — No ! not 
even if they saw their best friends shewn up in its colimins. 
Indeed, that circumstance might be an additional reason 
for taking it in. Amiable ! but true I 

No. IV. 

" SoMPTiNG Abbey, Sussex. 

" July 39. 1814. 

"Dear [ ^], — ^I am in great haste, as you may easily 

imagine, as I have postponed my writing to you till I 
could give you a definitive and comfortable account of 
all my proceedings. 

" On Monday, the 25th, at two o'clock, I delivered my 
letter for the perusal of the Prince Regent into Mr. 
Canning's hands ; but previously my brother had sent 
a gentleman, his grand &uyer, the week preceding, as 
he was prevented himself from coming to accompany 
me to Brunswick, that this gentleman should take charge 
of me ; and through that medium I was informed already 
that there would be no objection made, either on the part 
of the ministers or the Prince Regent himself, to go 
abroad for some time, and unconditionally upon any 
other point. But knowing that it would be gratifying 
to you to see the answer, I have enclosed a copy, which 

Mr. H[ ] will forward to you with this letter. The 

same day that I sent my letters, I went to Norbury — 
where I stayed the night, and arrived next day for my 
late dinner at nine o'clock, at Sompting. But last night, 
in the midst of a most violent storm ot thunder and 
lightning, a king's messenger arrived, as if from the clouds, 
sent by Jupiter with his thunderbolts. It is the most 
gracious letter that ever was written to me from that 
quarter — * end well, all weU ' ; — and I feel quite happy 

Digitized by 



and comfortable at the prospect that we can now soon 
meet each other, and enjoy each other's society, in a 
warmer climate. I have desired that the man of war is 
to be ready by the 6th of August, that I may set sail 
with the full moon on the 8th, to go immediately by 
Cuxhaven, the shortest way to Brunswick. I shall only 
remain a fortnight in my native country, anxious to go 
by the Rhine to Switzerland, and so to Naples, before 
the bad weather sets in. I trust to meet you there (I 
mean to say in Switzerland) and take you in my suite to 
Naples. I heard of Mr. Craven of your safe arrival at 
Paris, and how much you had been admired, which has 
given me great satisfaction, to hear that the Parisians 
have, at least for once, shewn good taste and judgment. 

" I saw Princess Charlotte on Saturday, two days before 
I set out ; she seems much more calm and resigned to 
her prison at Cranboume Lodge than I expected. She 
is to go afterwards to the sea-side. Warwick House 
is to be demolished, and a new wing built to Carlton 
House ; and the Regent is to remove to the Duke of 
Cumberland's apartments, in St. James's Palace. This, 
I believe, is all the news I can offer you. The marriage 
of Georgina Fitzroy and Lord Worcester took place last 
Monday, and Emily Pole's and Lord Fitzroy Somerset's 
is to be next week. They are going to Paris, with the 
Duke of Wellington, as he is his secretary. Don't trouble 
yourself with answering my letter, as it certainly would 
not find me. In September, I shall be certainly near 
you in some part of Switzerland, and you may imagine 
how anxious I shall be to assure you again in person 
of my sincere and unfeigned attachment, with which 

" I remain. Ever yours, 

"C. P.'* 

Poor Princess ! she played her enemies game. Of 
course, the adverse party desired nothing more than that 

Digitized by 



she should leave England. ''The most gradous letter 
that ever was written to me from that quarter." It was 
the fable of the Fox and the Crow. She swallowed the 
flattery and fell into the snare, which ultimately caused 
her death. The Princess Charlotte, too, could not 
think her mother's heart was wrapped up in her, when 
she left her in no very pleasant circumstances, to go 
whither ? — she knew not herself — and why ? — ^merely to 
get rid of time, and lose, by change of scene and idle 
amusement, a bitter sense of the indignities she had 
received. But it is impossible not to feel that, if the 
Princess had possessed as much moral courage as she 
had personal fearlessness — ^as much of principle as she 
had of good impulses — ^her whole fate would have been 
far different from what it was. True, she had been 
grossly insulted at the time when the foreign potentates 
came to England, and to England's monarch, almost as 
vassals subject to his power. Discarded by her husband 
from every pubUc and private homage due to her rank ; 
— ^branded with the dark stigma of crime, which her 
enemies dared not examine into or avow openly, and 
in which their machinations had been secretly, years, 
before, defeated, when they attempted to prove their 
charge ; — smocked by the King of Prussia's pusillanimous 
conduct in sending his chamberlain to her with pro- 
fessions of regard, but avowing that under circumstances 
he dared not come to her himself — he, in whose cause 
her father, the Duke of Brunswick, had fought, and 
her brother lost his life ; — spit upon, as it were, by the 
Emperor of Russia, who now woiild, and now would not, 
come to visit her, and of whom it is said, that as he 
was actually leaving his apartment to pay her a visit, 
one of the Regent's ministers almost fell on his knees 
before him to prevent, and ultimately did prevent him 
from going to her ; — thus persecuted, defamed, tormented, 
much may be said in extenuation of her unwise resolution 

Digitized by 



to leave England and her cares for a time, at least, 
behind her. But it was a great moral mistake, and a 
greater political one. Her daughter, too, had a short 
time before proved her love for her mother, by flying 
to her arms in a moment of offended pride — ^when her 
escrutoire had been broken open, and her correspondence 
seized — ^her favourite attendant and guardian, one of 
the most high-minded women in the world, and the 
kindest-hearted. Miss K[night], turned rudely in disgrace 
away — ^and herself removed to a sort of prison, near 
Windsor. Whom, then, did Princess Charlotte fly to ? 
her mother. — Her mode of doing this was wild, and 
evidently the impulse of an offended pride ; but the 
act was dictated by nature. Where, if not in the arms 
of a mother, can a child find refuge ? — ^The Princess 
Charlotte fled from Warwick House unattended and 
imobserved, got into the first hackney coach she could 
find, and desired to be driven to Connaught Place. The 
man must have guessed that he drove a person of no 
mean note, as the Princess put a guinea into his hand ; 
but he was in no wise to blame in driving him where 
she ordered. Her mother was out when she arrived. 
The Princess's chief page, seeing her arrive in such an 
equipage and unattended, was, as he himself declared, 
thunderstruck; but, of course, ushered her into the 
drawing-room, where she awaited her mother's return. 
It is said the Princess, either from fear of the consequences, 
or from surprise, did not receive the Princess Charlotte 
with that warmth of affection which it would have been 
more natural and more fortunate for both parties, had 
she displayed. But, terrified lest any thing should 
detain her in England, the Princess of Wales was loth 
to offend the Regent at that moment, and therefore 
did all she could to dissuade her daughter from remaining 
with herself, and begged her to return to her alliance 
to her father. It may be questioned whether this was 

Digitized by 



altogether right, tinder the immediate circumstances 
of the case. Had she preached obedience to her father's 
will, but at the same time offered her an asylum with 
herself, in the event of her determination to remain 
with her, it would have been acting in the true spirit 
of maternal love ; but it seems that she did not, and 
that there was an evident bias in the Princess of Wales 
towards a mode of conduct which evinced greater anxiety 
for her own pleasure than love for her child. She sent 
for the Duke of York — she sent for the Archbishop of 
Canterbmy — and, finally, they prevailed upon Princess 
Charlotte to return to Warwick House. 

The Princess of Wales was as much blamed by the 
adverse party on this occasion, as if she had insti- 
gated her daughter to the act of having run away from 
Warwick House ; and, though the consequences are in- 
calculable, had her Royal Highness pursued a different 
line of conduct — ^supported her daughter with mildness, 
but with steady resolve to be to her indeed a mother, in 
all the tenderness of the tie — ^yet it will always remain 
a problem to be solved, whether the Princess did or 
did not act rightly, by giving up Princess Charlotte to 
her father, her uncle, and the church. Certain it is, 
her Royal Highness had used no influence whatever to 
induce Princess Charlotte to act as she did : the deed 
was her own, and no other person whatever had any 
share in it. 

The sequel of this most melancholy history must 
have embittered the Princess of Wales's life ; and the 
idea, that, had she remained in England, she might 
have saved her child's life, must have been a deep aggra- 
vation to all her sorrows. 


" My dear [ ], — I suppose by this time you have 

been informed of the result of the business in the House 

Digitized by 



of Commons yesterday. Though it has been in sotne 
measure satisfadory^ I am not yet satisfied. 

" I should not have troubled you with these lines, was 
it not on account of a visit which you will receive 

to-morrow ; namely, Mrs. B[ ]k. She came this 

morning again, being very busy to carry messages back 
and forward to Lord Grey, which I declined completely, 
and that she certainly never would disclose an)^hing to 

Mr. A[ ]t, though he was her great friend. I never 

saw any woman compromise herself in such a way as 
she did this morning ; for which reason, I am parUcu- 
larly anxious, that if she should make any questions to 
you, you would be particularly careful, and, to avoid 
any questions, concerning the family of Oxfords, Lord 
B}nx)n and Co., as I cannot help thinking that she has 
more curiosity than ladies usually have. Sir F. B[urdett] 
must also not be named. In short, you must be as 
much upon your guard as possible. Holland House is, 
of course, entirely against poor me, and they have sent 
her as a spy to Black — ^th. 

" Heaven bless you, — I am in great haste, 

'* Most truly affectionate, 

" C. P." 

" After you have read the newspaper, pray send it to 
[ ] ; but let C[ ] see it." 

How miserable must that person be, who has, in 
fact, no one friend in whom she can confide t — ^Mrs. 

B[ ] was, I really believe, attached to her Royal 

Highness ; and yet the Princess doubted and feared her. 
The cautions contained in this letter, against this lady, 
were addressed to a person whom she afterwards cast off 
in like manner ; — ^although I have good reason to know 
ber Royal Highness, in her heart, wfts perfectly con* 

Digitized by 



vinced that that person remained her true friend to the 
last. It is a singular fact, that when the unfortunate 
Princess passed through Rome, and that the Duchess 
of D[evonshire] sent word to the Cardinal Gonsalvi, if the 
Pope valued the friendship of the Prince Regent, he 
must not send a guard of honour to the Princess, a steady 
friend of the latter (whom her Royal Highness would 
not, however, receive) sent her word by a famous anti- 
quary, that if her Royal Highness would leave on the 
continent every individual foreign attendant, and throw 
herself on the generosity of a British public, she had 
yet a great part to play. The Princess had confidence 
in the person and in the advice, (although she no longer 
liked the society of that person,) and, acting upon it, 
immediately set off that night for England. Had she 
acted a different part there, what might have been the 
consequences ? 

No. VI. a. 

" Dear [ ], — I still continue to live in the same 

active idleness. My party for Sunday dinner was small, 

as it did consist of only ten people ; but Lord B[ ]n 

was more hvely and odd than ever, and he kept us in a 
roar of laughter the whole dinner time. In the evening, 
Catalani sung. William Spencer came with the family 

of Mr. C[ ]. The daughter is the finest piano player 

I ever heard in this country — and Mr. Craven and Mr. 
Mercer sung their delightful Spanish songs. At supper, 
Mr. Lewis was more absorbed and queer than ever. 

** Yesterday, I received your amiable letter, and would 
have answered it sooner, but that I forgot to have a 
frank. Lord Glenbervie does not come till to-day. 
After the hot and dull dinner at Spring Gardens, I went 
to the Opera House to see a play — one act of an opera» 
and the ballet of Psyche, for the benefit of Kelly : it 
was as full as it could hold, and I returned to my sohtaiy 

Digitized by 



supper. I am rather early this morning, as I expect 
the Marquis. I have not yet seen any body that par- 
ticularly interests you since you left this sphere. If I 
could be of any use to you, you know how glad I should 
be. I am always ready to do mon petit possible. Mon- 
day the iSth will be a grand masquerade at Mrs. Chichester's 
— and^ if you mention it to some of your intimate acquaint^ 
ancCy they would procure you some tickets for your family 
and your friends. There is a week ahnost to consider of 
it, and if it is agreeable to you, which is sufficient to me. 

" I had a very surprising visit yesterday from the Duke 
of Gloucester, and he comes the 24th to dinner. I 
cannot help thinking that the visit was intended for 
you. If he has no other merit, he has, at least, that of 
admiring beauties, which is certainly the ninth part in 
a speech. I could write a volimie to you, had I but 
time ; but as it is, you escape the misfortune, luckily 
for you — and I only subscribe m3^self, with the greatest 

'' Your most sincere and affectionate, 

"C. P." 

<' Kensington would be the surest place to go from 
on that day. Lady Glenbervie must not hear of it. 
" Par causa, give me an answer soon." 

There is a curious story respecting this masquerade. 
The Princess, it was related to me by undoubted au- 
thority, would go to the masquerade, and, with a kind 
of girlish folly, she enjoyed the idea of making a grand 
m5^tery about it, whLdi was quite unnecessary. The 
Duchess of York frequently went to similar amusements 
incognito, attended only by a friend or two; and nobody 
found fault with her Royal Highness. The Princess 
might have done the same, but no ! — ^the fun, in her 
estimation, consisted in doing the thing in the most 

Digitized by 



ridiculous way possible ; so she made two of her ladies 
privy to her sdieme, and the programme of the revel 
was, that her Royal Highness should go down a back 
staircase with one of her ladies, while the cavaliers 
waited at a private door which led into the street, and 
then the parHe quarrie was to proceed on foot to the 
Albany, where more ladies met her Royal Highness, 
and where the change of dress was to be made. All of 

this actually took place ; and Lady [ ] told me, she 

never was so frightened in her life, as when she found 
herself at the bottom of Oxford Street, at twelve at 
night, on her cavalier's arm — and seeing her Ro}^ 
Highness rolling on before her. It was a sensation, 
she told me, between laughing and crying, that she 
should never forget. The idea that the Princess might 
be recognized, and of course mobbed, and then the 
subsequent consequences, which would have been so 
fatal to her Royal Highness, were all so distressing to 
her, that the party of pleasure was one of real ^ain to 

This mad prank, however, Lady [ ] told me, passed 

off without discovery, and certainly, without any im- 
propriety whatever, except that which existed in the 
foUy of the thing itself. It was similar imprudencies 
to this which were so fatal to the Princess's reputation ; 
and truly, it might have been said of them, " Le jeu ne 
valait pas la chandelle." 

This anecdote is alluded to in the body of the diary ; 
but the letter calls for a note in this place. 

Whenever the Princess did not like the visit of any 
person, she ascribed it to the attractions or influences 
of some one of her household. This was a hint that 
the person should not come again. In the present 
instance, as in many others, how mistaken her Royal 
Highness was, in respect to the estimation in which she 
held the Duke of G[ ] ! To have had the countenance 

Digitized by 



and friendship of so good a man, was of incalculable 
consequence to her, and she despised both. 

No. VI. 6. 

" Dear [ ], — I found a pair of old earrings which the 

of a Q once gifted me with. I truly believe 

that the sapphires are false as her heart and soul is, but 
the diamonds are good, and £50 or £80 would be very 
acceptable for them indeed. I am quite ashamed of 
giving you all this trouble, but believe me, 

" Yours." 

It is much to be regretted that the Princess should 
have conceived such a hatred against a person she ought 
to have respected, — whose whole life, as it appeared to 
the world in general, was to be venerated and admired, 
and still more is it to be lamented that she should ever 
have expressed her sentiments. But the reasons the 
Princess alleged, though probably groundless, and the 
mere devices of mischievous persons, were in them- 
selves sufficient to have justified her Royal Highnesses 
dislike, had they been true. In the first place, the 
favorite of her husband was sent for to escort her to this 
country, (some say by consent of the Queen), and it is 
further said she gave the Princess the most insidious 
advice. On a particular occasion, after the birth of 
Princess Charlotte, she contrived, by a most unfeminine 
manoeuvre, to render the Prince's first visit to his wife 
after her lying-in most unpleasant and disrespectful to 
his feelings. At Brighton, all sorts of tricks, it is 
alleged, were played off upon the Princess. Spirits were 
mingled with her beverage ; and horses were given her 
to ride, which were dangerous for her to manage, and 
made her appear ridiculous. — ^Lastly, there was un^ 
doubtedly a letter of her Royal Highnesses, addressed 

Digitized by 



in confidence to her motha: the Duchess of Brunswick, 
which was opened surreptitiously and carried to the 
Queen, who read the same and acted upon its contents. 
Many other stories are related of the same nature, and 
of a blacker dye. A belief in these, however devoid 
of truth in reality, it must be confessed was quite suflBdent 
to excite an inimical feeling between the Royal mother- 
ixi*law and her son's wife* 

No. VII. 

"The intention of Mr. Whitbread is, that some few 
questions will arise in Parliament this week concerning 
my business, and he has just given me the advice not 
to go to the Opera this week ; for which reason I lose 

no time in forming you, my dear [ ] that I shaU 

not go this week. 

'' I am in great haste, but believe me ever, 

" Your afiectionate 

"C. P." 

"Murch 15. 

" You are at liberty, my dear [ ], to make any use 

of my box that you please." 

Since "trifles form the sum of human things," it 
may be remarked in the Princess's favour, that she 
was perpetually balked in all the minor occurrences 
of daily life; and those who had most constant access 
to her person knew that, generally speaking, she bore 
these teazing circumstances with great good temper. 
The perpetual recurrence of trivial contradictions is 
more difficult to endure with equanimity, than any 
disappointment of a more serious kind. In the latter 
case, there is a defence prepared, either by philosophy 
or religion ; in the former, the thing is unexpected, and 
when often repeated, becomes exceedingly lacerating. 

Digitized by 



No. VIII. 

" My dear [ ], — Pray make any use you like of my 

Opera box as long as you remain in town, as I have no 
inclination to go at present. Pray tell me what you hear, 
and what the general opinion of the world is about all 
my affairs. 

" I am very angry with Miss B[ ], that she has 

refused my invitation. Cest dans les moments dFadversiU 
that you know your real friends ; but I must honestly 
confess, I begin to have a great contempt for the world. 

" Pray, my dear [ ], if you can, call on Lady [ \ 

who leaves London at the beginning of next week — 
and even England I may say — perhaps for ever. She 
will take it very kind of you, and I shall never forget 
the pleasant moments and hours I passed at her house — 
the only ones I ever passed in England. 

" The enclosed letter which you sent me, of the un- 
known lady, who offers herself to come forward with 
any deposition and document^ has also written to Mr. 
Whitbread, which tempted me to send the letter you 
enclosed to Mr. Brougham, as he is upon the spot, and in 
a few days I shall inform you what the result of this 
inquiry has been. 

" I trust your health is good, that you may enjoy all the 
amusements which waltzing and suppers may offer }^u. 

** With these sentiments, I glory in subscribing myself 
** Yoiu: most truly affectionate, 

"C. P." 

The constant restlessness of persons immersed in 
the cares of this life, to know what others are sa}dng 
of them, what others are thinking of them, and the 
inefhcacy of this knowledge, even when it meets their 
expectations, to produce peace or even pleasure, form 
one of the most striking illustrations of the Preacher's 
word — '* Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." There is 

Digitized by 



every now and then, in the Princess's notes and letters, 
as there was in her conversation, an under-current of 
acute feeling and melancholy, which required only to 
have had more permanency, and more justice and legi- 
timacy of cause, to have been as respectable as it was 
touching. But with her Royal Highness, one circum- 
stance drove out another ; and the habit of catching at 
straws for diversion, or for succour, (as the emergency 
of the moment might demand,) rendered the efforts of 
her best friends, to serve or save her, fruitless. — " Whom 
the gods design to ruin, they blind." 

Lady [Oxford] was, it must be allowed, an improper 
person to have been admitted to the Princess's intimacy ; 
and afterwards, when it was too late, her Royal Highness 
was made to feel this truth. — At Naples, the lady in 
question being reduced to great pecuniary difficulties, 
drew largely upon her Royal Highness's generosity ; 
and when the latter had no more to bestow — ^having 
literally sold some diamonds or pearls to the Duchess 
of Bracciano, at Rome, to enable her to do this act 
of kindness — Lady [Oxford] turned upon her benefactress, 
and became one of her most vile detractors ! But the 
besom of destruction has swept the [Harley] family to 
the winds, and the betrayer and the betrayed are alike 
beyond the praise or censure of this world's applause or 

No. IX. 

** My dear [ ], — I will not dwell upon all the subjects 

which you must have read over and over again in the 
newspapers, pro et contray and you see now how prudent 
and wise it was in my friends, not to have published the 
other * letters in question,' till the mind of the pubHc 
was ripe for the conception of aU their infernal tricks. 
The only punishment which has for the present been 
inflicted upon me, is that Princess Charlotte has re- 
ceived orders not to come ^t ^ ; which, of course, has 

Digitized by 



occasioned a very delighful letter, dictated by me, to the 
skilful pen of Lady Anne Hamilton, to Lord Liverpool. 
Mrs. Lisle, as one of the valuable witnesses of theits, 
has been sent for, and, with her usual grace and elegance, 
she will try to give herself some consequ^ice, making 
it believed that she was one of my confidential friends, 
though she never had that honour. 

" There has been a letter forwarded to me, which I 
beg of you to send to Lisbon ; but, as one of Miss 
Knight's cousins goes by Thursday, if you would enclose 
it yourself, with a few lines addressed to Miss Knight, 
Warwick House, it will reach completely. But I beg 
of you to mention it as your own letter, and not a com- 

" I shall come in the morning of Thursday or Friday, 
aftef my luncheon, which is four or five o'clock, — and, 
by that time, I trust I shall have something more in- 
teresting to conmiunicate to you. In the mean while, 
believe me, your's affectionately, 

"C. P." 

The assimied tone of jocularity, and a straining after 
wit, or what her Royal Highness conceived to be such, 
which are discernible in this letter, cannot deceive any 
one, nor conceal the worm that gnawed her heart. But 
the constant irritation in which the Princess and the 
Regent contrived to keep each other, was a perfect 
game of battledore and shuttlecock ; and, if the latter 
ever fell to the ground, there was always some bystander 
ready to pick it up again, and thus the game of torment 
was renewed, and lasted to their lives* end. It is diffi- 
cvdt, at this distance of time, to ascertain what letters 
her Royal Highness alludes to, as having been prudent 
on the part of her friends not to publish. 

Poor Lady A. H[amilton] has been very unjustly 
condemned ; for she intended to do right, thougji she was 

Digitized by 



always doing wrong. A spirit of intrigue and petty 
concealment, and a false idea of prudence, prevented 
that open uprightness of character, which walks erect 
through the world, and defies slander, because it has no 
Uttle mean interests to serve. Nevertheless, it will be 
told of this lady hereafter, that she underwent all the 
contumely and all the opprobrium of the last pubUe scenes 
of her unfortunate and misguided mistress, and never 
left her person in life, or her insulted remains, till they 
were deposited in the grave, where all things are forgotten. 
This moral courage on the part of Lady A. H[amilton], 
by which she could get little or nothing to compensate 
for the odiimi it entailed upon her, will be done justice 
to at last, and will cover a thousand little defects of 
meaner kind, the growth, it may be, of timidity, of a 
false idea of doing good — qt4e sais-je? of a littleness of 
conception, which, after all, was strangely contrasted 
in the same character with a greatness, during the last 
scenes of the historic tragedy in which she was a figurante 
— that will ultimately reverse the judgment which has 
been too hastily pronounced upon her. — Mais t6t ou 
tard tout se sait ; and the public award is generally 
just at the last, though often too tardily so, to affect 
beneficially the happiness of the person on whom sentence 
is passed. 

No. X. 

"A thousand thanks, dear [ ], for the beautiful 

gown ! worked by the most beautiful and delicate fingers. 

I trust you have been amused at the [ ], where you 

found the family, and particularly the Marquis, in high 

" Pray, any day, when it is convenient to you, let me 
have a line, to inform me if you have an answer from 
Mr. [ ], as suspense is worse than misforttme. 

n an 

Digitized by 



" G)nceming * Jeanne d*Arc * ♦ and myself, we go on 
in a humdrum way. I have been so fortunate to have 
contrived that we have not been one whole day alone 
together. The only news I have heard is, that Paddy 
has, very near Staines, a cottage for the Dowager Lady 

[ ]. The sign for the house wiU be * Le beau C16on 

et la belle Javotte,* in case any body calls on them. 

"I have heard of nothing but merriment and high 
spirits of the royal family — so that I am afraid that my 
prospect of intended journey and travels are put a 
Uttle far back. But I will not trespass longer upon 
your time with all my Jeremiades. I will, therefore, 
only conclude with assuring you, that I remain for 

ever, my dear [ ]. 


" Most sincere, 

" And affectionate, 

" C. P.*' 
"Sept. 17th." 

Any person who knew the parties, must guess that 
the Rincess designates Lady A. H[amilton] as Joan of Arc. 
There was a comicality in that idea which might be 

called happy. Who Paddy is, and who Lady J[ ] 

remains a mystery. The "high spirit" of the one 
party of the royal family, always seemed to have given 
comparatively low spirits to the poor Princess. The 
German clocks, where the husband and wife alternately 
come forth or retire, are illustrative of this fact ; and 
one instance may serve for all. But this is not a cir- 
cumstance confined to any one court or clime. Turn 
over the records of the past — ^look to the families of the 
present d3niasties of Europe — How fares it with them ? 
— even so : la ressemblance et la difference may be read 
in all leaving the foundation the same. 

* Lady Anne Hamilton. 

Digitized by 


No. XI. 

" Sunday Morning. 

" My dear [ ], — I shall send the postchaise in time 

to-morrow morning, as you must be at Blackheath at 
half past ten o'clock, for it is absolutely necessary that I 
am at Kensington, at twelve o'clock ; for which reason I 

beg of you, my dear [ ], to be exact. I intend to 

dress at Kensington, so you may take your little parcel 
with you, to be quite smart. 

" You will have read the ♦ ♦ ♦ of this morning, and 
to-morrow, there will be a very excellently written 
contradiction by Mr. Whitbread, and a Mr. Holt, in all 

the morning papers of Monday, as Mr. M[ ] is this 

moment in custody under Dr. Warburton again ; of 
which the editor of the ♦ ♦ ♦ is perfectly aware ; but 
still he has obstinately insisted in his intention, and, 
therefore, he must be prosecuted, and nobody will ever 
like to take his paper again, which is a very just 
punishment for his impudence. 

" The * gentil Troubadour ' I shall give you to-morrow 
back, as the copy, and all the verses which belong to 
it, I find, are not in your possession. 

" I will not detain you any longer^^lon't take the 
trouble to write a single line — ^but only be ready in 
time to-morrow morning, and believe me ever, 

"Your sincere and affectionate, 

" C. P." 

" You will have read the ♦ ♦ ♦ of this morning," 
&c. &c. There was a curious story current at the time 

to which the paragraph refers, of Mr. M[ ]'s having 

been employed by Lady [ ] to write violent, ill- 
judged articles for the ♦ ♦ ♦, which I think I remember 
to have heard were libellous, and in consequence of 
which Mr. M[ ] was taken into custody, not for mad- 
ness, but for scurrility ; and he, to defend himself^ 

Digitized by 



declared that he had put in the paragraph by order of 
the Princess- Then came an examination of the man, 
and a defence of her Royal Highness, and more attacks. 
How the matter ended, I forget ; but the probabiUty 

of the story is, that Lady [ ] was the contriver and 

plotter of the whole manoeuvre, which did a great deal 
of harm to the cause of her Ro}^ Highness. It was 
the misfortune of the Princess to be surrounded by 
intriguing people. Perhaps, this is more or less the 
misfortune of all princes. If they do not detect it, they 
fall into the snare — if they do, they become suspicious, 
and hardened, and unnatural ; like a baited animal, 
they are driven as she was, to despair and death ! 

No. XII. 

" My dear [ ], — ^I hope you have been amused at 

the Opera yesterday. 

" Pray, if you hear any news, be so kind to communi- 
cate them to us. I am to see Mr. Whitbread to-day, 
on what further proceedings in the business will be 
necessary. I hear the Grand Mufti is furious against 
the House of Commons. Sir J[ohn Douglas] passes 
his days, instead of Newgate, at Carlton House. 

" I have not yet seen Princess Charlotte, except by 
chance in the Park, which was on that day five weeks. 

'' I send you a letter, which if you can get a frank for, 
so much the better ; if not, you are so kind as to send 
it to the general post as soon as possible. 

" If you hear or see any thing of the Sapios, send them 
this paper, and desire to know how soon the money 
is to be paid : it contains subscribers to his concert. 

" My best compliments to Mrs. D[ ], and my love to 

liiss B[ ] : ask her what she now thinks of the House 

of Commons ; and believe me, my dear [ ], ever 

'' Yoiir sincere and aSectionate, 

••Af«rc* lor*." **C. P." 

Digitized by 



Sir JCohn] was the husband of that Lady D[oDg]as], 
who proved herself to be a most unworthy person, and 
who acted a principal part in that notoriously dirty 
job, the investigation of the Princess's conduct by 
private commission, instituted agaiiist the Princess of 
Wales some years previously to the date of this letter : 
— a transaction which will always remain a blot on the 
page of English history, and which every name of note 
that was implicated in that unconstitutional measure, 
must wish erased for ever from the records of their 
country. But, if they were erased at an earthly tribunal, 
they will remain still graven on a higher one. 

No. XIII. 

" Friday, April 23rd. 

" My dear [ \ — ^As you like sometimes high treason, 

I send you a copy of the verses written by Lord B3nron 
on the discovery of the bodies of Qiarles the First and 
Henry the Eighth : you may communicate it to any of 
your friends you please. 

«' The Lord Mayor and Aldermen, &c. &c., are to come 
on Wednesday at one o'clock, to Kensington, for which 
reason I shafl send you my post-chaise, to bring you 
here at half-past nine, as I must set off at ten o'dock 
precisely, to prevent a crowd. I hope you are better, 
and that there will be no impediment to prevent your 
being at this great show. f^ 

" Believe me, 

" Yours affectionately, ? 

" C. P.** ;^ 

** As you like sometimes high treason.** The person 
thus addressed must have been doubtless astonished at 
this assertion, being one of the most loyal in the land. 
The scene alluded to, of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, 


by Google 


coining with a congratulatory address to her Ro}^ 
Highness, was one of those extraordinary triumphs 
which, had they effected a corresponding demeanour 
on the part of her whom they ought to have warned 
and encouraged, might have been productive of great 
changes in pubhc affairs, and have Ufted her up to the 
station she had a right to hold in the land. But the 
same levity and imprudence which seem to have been 
her curse throughout, turned all these expressions of 
attachment and respect towards her person into a farce ; 
and even those whom her benefits and kindness had 
endeared her to, could scarcely avoid feeling these 
demonstrations of admiration and respect to be ill- 
placed. It is possible to render our best friends ashamed 
of us. 

No. XIV. 

" Wednesday, sth of May. 

" I shall in future be called • Queen Margaret in her 

sequestered bower,* my dear [ ], and you will be 

the fair Rosamond living with me in that bower. The 
short and the long of this is, blessed dear old Lady Reid 
be, for her good taste ! I think her house perfection^ and 
to-day, I believe, the contract will be signed. Some 
of the rooms which I have chosen for my own use are 
extremely dirty ; but with soap and water and hroshing 
and a Uttle painting, I shall make them look well. The 
two drawing-rooms and the dining-room are truly mag- 
nificent old rooms, which would do credit to any old 
manor-house in Scotland. I have taken it for seven 
years, as it was impossible to take it for less ; but, in 
case my situation should change before that period, I 
can let it whenever I please. It is no more than eigfU 
hundred pounds a year, which is extremely cheap : it is 
like a complete viUa in the midst of town, as you know 
that Curzon Street, Mayfair, is close to Stanhope Gate, 

Digitized by 



and the other end to Piccadilly, which will make it very 
easy for my friends to come. I hope in ten days I shall 
be able to live in it ; though I may not be immediately 
quite comfortable, it is the only means to make the 
workmen be more speedy. 

** The only news I heard on my return from my land 
of discovery to Kensington is, that the Regent had 
the impudence to plan to give a ball to the Queen and 
royal family to-morrow at Carlton House, but his friends 
advised him not to do such a foolish thing. 

" What do you think of the Queen's attack by a mad 
woman ? I suppose the true courtiers would wish that 
now an address should be presented to her Majesty, as 
her life, and for what heaven knows, perhaps her honour, 
might have been in danger. 

'' The city is now busy about an address to the Regent. 
It is to be hoped that it will be carried. I also hear 
that Lord Yarmouth is to leave England in course of 
a month. I am now in great haste to receive the address 
from Canterbury, — and have only to add that I remain 
for ever, 

"Yours affectionately, 
"C. P." 

This house of Lady Reid's was a thorn in the Princess's 
side, and she firmly beheved, perhaps with reason, 
that she was prevented from obtaining possession of 
it by persons inimical to her Uving in London. The 
tide of pubUc favour was with her at that moment ; 
she might have sailed in with the favouring gale to 
fortune's highest honours. But how widely she departed 
from all the common rules of prudence ; and how 
moumf id was her fate ! Whatever her faults and follies 
were, when her previous life is taken into consideration — 
the education she received — ^the example set before her 
from her earliest year$ — the actual contemplation of the 

Digitized by 



life of those who persecuted her — ^wiU not posterity 
draw a parallel which will silence too severe a judgment, 
and record. her follies with a lenient hand. 

No. XV. 

" SaHtrday Morning. 

"My dear [ ], — ^Whoever is in your agreeable 

society must forget all matters of business ; for which 
reason 1 must now take up my pen to trouble you with 
these lines, and trespass upon your leisure hour. I wish 
you would be kind enough to write to Lord Melville in 
my name, to represent to him the very melancholy 
situation poor Lady Finlater has been left in, since the 
demise of the Duchess of Brunswick. She has literally 
no more than ^^300 a year, which is all she possesses in 
the world. The Duchess gave her £250 a year, and 
made her besides an allowance for candles and coals, 
and the rent for a smaU lodging-house (in Manchester 
or Baker Street I believe) ; and, if Lord Melville would 
espouse her cause, to get her a pension of £500 a year, 
without deducting the income tax, it would make the 
latter moments (which can only now be moments) of 
this poor, blind, and infhm woman, at least comfortable 
— and particularly coming through the channel of Lord 
Melville, whose father has always been her best and 
most steady friend. I leave all the rest, my dear Lady 

[ ], to your skilful imagination, and the pathetic for 

your excellent heart ; and no one is more able to express 
right and amiable feelings than you. 

" By universal applause the address has been carried 
in the city, and I expect the Sheriffs this morning. But, 
of course, a very civil answer will be given, that I can- 
not receive them, having no establishment suitable to 
receiving the Lord Mayor and city ; and besides, being 

Digitized by 



in deep mourning on the melancholy event of my mother' 
sudden death. 

"Lord Moira has given a very satisfactory answe 
to Mr. Whitbread, which arrived last night, (before h< 
leaves this coimtry,) about the private examinations ii 
his house — and a copy of it I shall send you of his * rem 
iniscences,' and I say, 'mieux tard que jamais.' ] 
send you also enclosed, a letter for Miss Rawdon, t( 
send to Mrs. Grethed, as I do not know her prope] 
direction. Heaven bless you, and believe me for evei 

" C. P." 

The Princess was olwsys inclined to do kind and 
noble things. She was decidedly liberal, and liked 
every thing upon a grand scale. When she gave 
a shabby present, as she frequently did, it was from 
ignorance, not from parsimony. Sometimes, it might 
be, she had nothing better at the moment to give away, 
and she would take up any thing that happened .to lie 
about her room, (in which there was a sufficient quantity 
of trash,) and present it to a friend. The feeling which 
prompted the deed was genuine kindness ; and she 
would as readily have given away an article of costly 
price as one of a trumpery kind, had it lain in the way. 
She was singularly ignorant of all works of art, and 
totally devoid of taste, though she fancied she was pre- 
cisely the reverse. Imitations pleased her as much as 
realities, and she fancied that others were like herself. 
She once said with some asperity, ^' De English are all 
merchants— de first question they ask is the value of a 
gift in money." There was a wrong and right side in 
many of her sajdngs ; but she saw most things through 
a distorting medium. 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 




Digitized by 


[The following series were evidently intended for 
publication : they bear in that respect a distinct cha- 
racter from the foregoing Diary and Letters, which, 
on the very face of them, carry the conviction of having 
been decidedly written without any view of their coming 
before the pubhc ; but these Supplementary Letters 
will be found to thxow a light upon the previous pages, 
and to contain much amusing and novel matter ; while 
the opinions expressed in them may excite matter of 
consideration for the page of future history.] (Original 


Digitized by 


From a painting by Samuel Lane 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 




SO, it is determined to proceed against her Majesty 
the Queen, by a Bill of Pains and Penalties ! 
I am sorry for this. The spirit and intelligence 
of the age are opposed to such a course ; and 
perhaps her case requires another. I will state briefly 
why I think so ; trusting, that although I hold my own 
opinions as firmly as a smithy-vice, I am yet very 
tolerant to those of others. They may be certainly as 
correct in their notions as I am in mine, when I do not 
discuss the reasons which influence them. 

In the first place, a Bill of Pains and Penalties pre- 
supposes guilt to have been ascertained, to which it is 
proposed to award a definite punishment, if the legislature 
shall find that the guilt has been demonstrated. 

Now this, to speak in vulgar parlance, is not fair. It 
gives to the injured party submitting the bill to parlia- 
ment, the power of determining what the punishment 
should be. No doubt, parliament may modify the penalty 
proposed to be inflicted ; but still it is in principle con- 
trary to justice, inasmuch as, practically, parliaments 
are compku:ent enough to the wishes of kings, and it is 
not reasonable to expect them greatly to mitigate the 
dictates of royal wrath and indignation. 

In the second place, the character of the alleged crime, 
in its blackest consideration, is of a personal nature, and 
if substantial to have been committed, a Bill of Pains 


Digitized by 



and Penalties is not the way of proceeding to punishment ; 
inasmuch as the party claiming relief is notoriously not in 
circimistances to entitle himself to claim it. If divorce 
be sought, it is not a whit better than Napoleon's repu- 
diation of poor Josephine ; a transaction which outrages 
the feelings and convictions of every christian heart in 

According to what I have heard, and to the opinions I 
have formed, it is not probable that the imputed delin- 
quency will be proved ; but it is almost certain that the 
derogatory charges as to the demeanour, will be made 
indisputably obvious. If so, again a Bill of Pains and 
Penalties is not just, for it is making that criminal which 
was not so when the indiscretions were committed. 

Then you will say, would I allow that kind of conduct 
to pass with impunity in a Queen (one of whose uses is 
to give an example to society), which would be unworthy 
of a married woman who has any rank to uphold in private 
life ? Emphatically No ; and the law and usages of 
the nation have provided a remedy adequate to the 
offence, without obliging the Government to sanction 
such an odious, tyrannical, and obsolete measure as a 
Bill of Pains and Penalties. The remedy is this : — 
The Queen must come to Parliament for an estabhshment. 
Before granting this, I would submit the charges of impro- 
prieties and levities to a Committee ; and if substan- 
tiated, I would not then give her any such establishment 
as would enable her to spread the infection of her follies 
or infirmities. 

If it be true that a Bill of Pains and Penalties is in 
contemplation, there is less philosophy and knowledge 
of history in the Cabinet than I had supposed ; and I 
do assure you, I had not imagined there was much. It 
subjects the king to the suspicion of driving at an object 
which will be a stink in the nostrils of all the civilised 
world that has any moral sense of what is odious ; and 

Digitized by 



it will be a flagrant and glaring demonstration that Liver- 
pool and G). are but the meanest hucksters in those 
scenes of politics which affect the principles of society — 
that they are, to use the most ignominious epithet possible, 
and advisedly, the filthiest panders to iniquity that ever 
lent themselves to a disgraceful purpose ; seeing, that 
without throwing rotten eggs at the indiscreet but ill- 
used Caroline of Brunswick, they had it in their power 
to have punished her to the full extent of what will 
probably be found to have been her guilt, as a Queen, 
by persuading Parliament not to grant supplies for the 
maintenance of unbecoming self-indulgences. 

I have not bridled the expression of my ideas regarding 
this ignorant, despicable, and senseless project of pro- 
ceeding by a Bill of Pains and Penalties. But 1 will 
not pour out all the violence of my antipathy just now. 
I request to be only considered as giving a decided opinion 
upon the principle of the measure, and that I do most 
unequivocally object to it. When I hear of the details, 
I will write again ; in the meantime, this stain, which is 
rumoured to be preparing for the morals, and character, 
and jurisprudence of Great Britain, will obtain, not, I 
hope, my invidious attention, but my utmost vigilance. 
I Mali not mince matters respecting any one whatever ; 
and, to use the old proverb, // they brew good ale^ they wiU 
drink the better. 


I am growing quite furious, and you must endeavour 
to bear with me, or forbid me to write on the subject of 
the Queen. Do you know there is a parcel of Cabinet 
or Parliamentary ninnies, who have the absolute and 
inconceivable fatuity of defending the Milan Commission 
sent to fish for proof of her Majesty*s imputed guilt ? 
and upon this ground : they say, forsooth, that the 

Digitized by 



characters of the Commission are not impeached. The 
only inflection in this absurdity is, that it has been 
wondered how men of wise and lofty minds could have 
engaged in such a sooty business. 

Contemptible as I do think the dominators in the 
councils of St. James's are, I never could, d priori^ have 
imagined that any one would have been so silly as to 
think they would be guilty of employing bad men to do 
a bad business. I do not think them idiots, whatever 
many may do ; for I am really of opinion that the majority 
of the royal panders, Liverpool and Co., have common 
sense, though, in the case of the Queen, not to an opulent 
degree. They judge of her as of a kiy figure, without 
life, heart, or feelings ; but, assuredly, believing them- 
selves honest in what they do (for only their knowledge 
of human nature is doubted), it is probable they would 
employ agents like themselves, that is to say, persons 
not eminently distinguished for discernment, wisdom, 
or abflity. They know well enough— even George IV. 
knows — that the best argued cause can derive no advan- 
tage from sullied agents. They would never trust bad 
men from principle. They are too good themselves to 
do so ; and the worst generally know that honesty in 
subordinates is an essential qualification. Subordinates 
must act according to their instructions ; and they are 
more likely to do so well, when they are cuUed with care. 
The sin of all crimes is in the originators, and to them, 
and to them alone, the evil of the issue designed must 
be attributed. A healthy arm may inflict a fatal wound, 
by the prompting of a foul heart. 

I wonder how this is not obvious. The integrity of the 
Milan Commissioners, whatever may have been their 
purity, is only an assurance that their task or duty, 
since they did undertake it, would be honestly performed ; 
but it is no assurance that they would reject those wit- 
nesses whom moral dehcacy might lead to bear condign 

Digitized by 



testimony against the delinquent lady, or whom ipalice 
might influence to asseverate suspicions as facts, and 
transmute imaginations into truths. 

I am grieved to observe that there should be supposed, 
in the public, men so capable of being deceived as to the 
character of any cause, by dwelling upoQ th^ virtues 
and honesty of subordinate agents. The proof of the 
agents having been imbecile, is in their agreeing to under- 
take a derogatory mission. Could they have been allowed 
to judge of their instructions, and had they been invested 
with discretionary powers, then the case would have been 
different ; but as I understand it, and as many under- 
stand it, the Commissioners were sent to find evidence 
against the Queen ; a circumstance which must have 
made them insensibly greedy of all malignant ¥dtnesse3| 
and blind to those who were not scrupulous of truth. 
We shall soon however have the true aspect of the pro* 
ceedings unveiled ; for the Green Bag Lords are nearly 
ready, I am told, to report. 

Believe me, &c. 

N.B. I have opened this note to say that a friend has 
just been with me, who has seen a draft of the proposed 
Bill of Pains and Penalties. It has all the objections in 
it that I anticipated, and particularly a clause to dissolve 
the marriage. Now, be one atom of justice in the House 
of Lords, they will submit to be shovelled into the Thames 
as an abomination, before they make themselves so vile 

as to pass this clause. R[ ], (for it was he who has 

been with me), says that in other respects, if the facts 
should be demonstrated, the Bill for degradation is not 
objectionable. I have however shown to him that it is 
a very foolish and unnecessary affair, inasmuch as Par- 
liament has it in its power, by the proceeding being at 
the beginning of a reign, to punish by refusing an estab- 
listunent. He, however, is not to be convinced. It 
is singular that men, really wise enough in the business 

U 2 

Digitized by 



of common life, do not see that nothing should be held 
to be a precedent, merely because it may be a similar 
measure to a previous one, unless the circumstances in 
the measure proposed are similar to those in which the 
previous one originated. There never was in this country 
such a dilemma as the present ; and therefore no f onner 
predicament in which Bills of Pains and Penalties were 
enacted, should be referred to. 


Of course you have heard that the Bill of Pains and 
Penalties was introduced into the House of Lords this 
evening. As it will be printed, I refer you to itself, and 
I can only regret that you cannot be present at the public 
quest which must now ensue, — ^remarking that it does 
contain a clause to dissolve the marriage. This iniquity 
the nation will not endure, or it is made up of different 
stuff from that which I have hitherto imagined, believed, 
and venerated. 

One thing I beg particularly to remark, and when you 
see the debate in the morning papers, look at it sharply. 
Liverpool said that it was satisfactory to reflect that the 
country had no precedents of a case similar to the Queen's 
during a period of two hundred years. 

What did the honest man mean ? and when was there 
a similar case even in four hundred years ? Could he be 
so ignorant of history as to imagme anything was like it 
in the instance of Henry the VIII.'s Blue Beard transac- 
tions ? Does he, a statesman, not know that there is 
good reason to doubt if the fiorst Defender of the Faith 
ought to be so much blamed as he is, for condemning 
Mrs. Anne Boleyn ? Is it not notorious to every one who 
has examined the questionable representations of incidents 
connected with the Reformation, that the truth of many 
of them is still at the bottom of a well ? Was not the 

Digitized by 



Gipsy's own father requested to be on her trial, and did 
refuse to be ? Was not her uncle the Duke of Norfolk 
on it, and concurred with the others in finding her guilty ? 
Did not several of her alleged paramours confess their 
participation in her guilt, and were executed not because 
they confessed, but because they were proved on evidence 
guilty ? Did she herself ever deny her guilt after the 
inquiry became serious ? Is it not true that her famous 
pathetic letter in Hume is deemed a forgery ? I have 
myself seen many of her original letters, and they are no 
more like it in style than a turnip is like a pine-apple. 
I have no hesitation in saying that Lord Liverpool, by 
directing men's minds to the transactions of Henry the 
Eighth's time, manifested deplorable ignorance, or a 
disposition to find Queen Caroline guilty. Now, once 
for all, I beg to say, that although I do think him a weak 
man, an excellent composer of red tape papers and files, 
I believe he is as incapable of doing voluntarily a bad 
action, as a pen by itself, though full of ink, of inditing a 
libel. He ought to have been aware that in two ways 
the allusion was bad : it either bespoke an opinion of the 
Queen*s guilt, or implied that the King was such another 
as the unfeeling Henry, In whatever way the thing is 
considered, it was in bad taste, as affecting both th^ King 
and the Queen. 

Nothing beyond this antiquarian abortion occurred 
to-night ; but it is evident that too scrimp justice is meant 
to be measured out to the Queen. The case is one in 
which magnanimity would be graceful. Is it forgotten 
that her Majesty stands near the throne in her own right ; 
that she is a stranger, as Katherine said of old, " in your 
realm ; " that she had enough, first and last, as Captain 

M[ ] said, to drive her to d ^n ? There never 

was the case of any poor defenceless woman which called 
so much for civility, at least. 

It would seem that she is not to be fimiished with a 

Digitized by 



list of the witnesses against her ; and the refusal is justi- 
fied on parliamentary usage ; just as if a proceeding 
by bill were not in fact a trial. Posterity and contem- 
poraries will alike consider it a trial ; and you cannot 
change the nature of the rose by calling it a fdthy nettle. 
There was much fairness in the reply of Grey, I thought ; 
but you wiU see all that passed, in the papers in the 

I beg to add, I am as convinced as Earl Grey seems to 
be, that there wiU be no difficulty in proving much against 
the dignity of the Queen's manners ; and the very certainty 
of doing so much should ensure magnanimity towards 
her. When delinquency of any sort in any case is clear, 
the prosecutor can afford to be great and generous ; but 
there is a dirty mean incubus in this affair, that will 
cause Great Britain hereafter to blush ; as if there were 
reason to apprehend that the Queen would be again 
declared " pure as the unsimned snow." 

Yours, &c. 

N.B. Perhaps I have too strongly expressed myself 
with respect to the Earl of Liverpool ; but I fed strongly, 
and really at this moment I am not inclined to sheath 
my swcwrd, even though you may think it somewhat 
rusty. The national affairs of any nation should always 
be conducted according to the actaiowledged spirit of the 
people. But I do not think this persecution of Queen 
Caroline is such as will elevate the pride of our country- 
men. However, now that I am in for it, I will give you, 
from time to time, my notions of all that passes under 
my own eyes. I will be a witness, impressed with a belief 
that much indiscretion will probably be developed, 
still withal as impartial as my feelings will allow. It 
is a grand drama, and I will be as attentive as if it were 
conceived by Shakspeare, written in blank verse, got up 
in Drury Lane Theatre ; yea, and I will be as critical. 

Digitized by 




Before I say more than I have akeady done about 
the Queen's business, give me leave to mention a thing 
which I have just heard. It is said that Grey is of opinion 
that the Queen has a right to object to the procedure 
by a Bill of Pains and Penalties. I think so too. She 
is accused, and I do not think that a delinquent should 
be allowed to say in what manner he would be pleased 
to be treated, in the parliamentary inquiry which may 
be necessary to ascertain the degree of alleged delinquency. 
But I still maintain that the method of proceeding by 
a BiU was not necessary ; and to this opinion I must 
adhere, until convinced that the practice of the constitu- 
tion did not allow of another as effective and less operose, 
ay, and less ostentatious. In public affairs, where the 
same end can be attained by quiet means that may be 
reached by ostentatious, I would prefer the least notorious. 
That, however, may be a matter of mere taste. Never- 
theless, I do think Lord Grey is right : the Queen has 
nothing to do with the forms of trial, she has only to 
vindicate herself. She may, indeed, Uke the eel, wince 
at being skinned ; but she is in the hands of the cook, 
who may treat her as being used to it ; at all events, 
she must submit. 

I was not present at the discussion which took place 
on this point ; but, I apprehend, neither Brougham nor 
Denman was very orthodox in maintaining that the Queen 
had anything to do with the form in which she was 
arraigned. They had only to take care that nothing 
was permitted, or attempted, that might impair the 
demonstration of their client's innocence. It was too 
much of the nature of a lawyer's quibble, to object to 
the form, or, rather, for the Queen to object to the form. 
Her business and duty is to vindicate herself, in whatever 
(orm she is to be tried or to be oppressed : I say oppressed. 

Digitized by 



because the Bill of Pains and Penalties was only to be 
passed if she was found guilty. If she be not guilty, 
she will have been grievously oppressed. 

I think the discussion must have been a very idle one. 
It was an endeavour to draw attention to forms ; and 
yet, an escape by any defect of form, would have been 
more ignominious than the mark of a brand on the fore- 
head. Could it not be thought that it was a Queen who 
was about to be tried ? 

I have thought it necessary to send you this brief notice 
because I do think that the Queen should not attach any 
importance to matters of form, and that Earl Grey was 
right in defending the proceeding by Bill on the ground 
he does. 

I am, &c. 


This affair of the Queen's is becoming more and more 
offensive to the intelligence of the age. They have, 
in the Lords, been searching for precedents, with respect 
to allowing her a list of the witnesses who will testify 
against her. They have never thought of inquiring 
whether the thing itself is proper, or is not proper. It 
is setting up prejudiced antiquity, and the dogmas of 
comparative despotism, to regulate, by example, what 
ought to be the conduct of those who do not regard the 
notions and maxims of times past as very worshipful. 

Nothing is more certain than that all the precedents 
which can be discovered, will be found to be the fungi 
of comparatively dark and unwholesome periods ; would 
it not, therefore, have been better to have inquired what 
were the circiraistances in which measures that were 
thought precedents were resorted to. Legislature should 
palpably not be shackled by precedents. Their functions 
are prospective, and their faculties prophetical. It may 
be expedient for the wisest (and the House of Lords is 

Digitized by 



the best informed on the earth) to see how precedents 
bear ; but it is making a court of law of a legislature, to 
hold it bound by any precedent whatever. 

Last night, Lord Shaftesbury presented the result of 
the search for precedents respecting witnesses ; and, 
in my opinion, (which, however, is but that of an in- 
dividual, and, perhaps, not a very wise one,) it was a 
singular demonstration of the inutility of having recourse 
to a search of the kind. Only two cases were found — 
I. That of Sir John Bennet, in 1621, and, 2. of Earl 
Strafford, in 1640. They were not satisfactory ; but 
would any rational human being, at all acquainted with 
the spirit of these times, think of sasdng that the common 
sense of 1820 should give the slightest heed to what was 
in those turbulent times suggested ? 

The mistake or error in the business seems to have 
been in thinking that, although the Lords were proceed- 
ing by a Bill, they are themselves trammelled by the 
forms of law. This is manifest in the speech of Lord 
Erskine ; for, although he disavows, distinctly enough, 
the justice of the Queen's claim to have a list of the 
witnesses by whom the charges against her were to be 
supported, he speaks too much as a lawyer, as if the 
course of law should be adhered to in a case that was 
propped by such as no law could reach. A Bill was 
under consideration, and yet he treated it as if there 
had been statute law which already decided the subject. 

I doubt not you have seen, this morning, what Eldon 
said on the subject. One is amazed at the mixture of 
good sense and ignorance of the world which distinguishes 
that energetic old man. He seems to have viewed the 
matter much in the way that I do. I make the remark 
not egotistically, but believe I am consciously proud of 
seeing my opinion approved, in some degree, by so great 
and so venerable a mind ; that is to say, by his holding 
similar notions. And yet he was against granting the 

Digitized by 



Queen's request. It would almost seem as if the fonns 
of law were deemed of more importance than Justice, in 
the House of Lords. 

With Lord Lansdowne, I entirely agree. He was of 
the same opinion as Erskine, but he spoke more like a 
lawgiver than a lawyer, and contended that a new pre-* 
cedent should be established, to meet the exigencies of 
what was certainly a new case. But, I say again, what 
have legislators to do with precedents ? There is an air 
of candour in the mode of expressing his sentiments on 
every subject, which entitles the opinions of this respect- 
able nobleman to particular deference. I do not know 
an individual, in either House, who seems to have less 
of the feeling of faction about him, and 3ret he is, most 
decidedly, a party man. 

Upon a careful reconsideration of all that passed, I 
think the ministers not so heartily bold as they were at 
one tiine. Lord Liverpool evidently ate in his words, 
and, I am sure, thought Lord Holland not too mealy- 
mouthed. All this proceeds more, perhaps, from an 
obstinate adhesion to forms, than from any desire to find 
the Queen deserving of degradation. But why do they 
not act greatly ? If she be guilty, the more liberality 
shown will redoimd to their own alternate advantage ; 
and if she be innocent, still more. Proceedings do not 
look well, merely because they want the magnanimity 
which should characterize the aspect of the measure, 
granting even that it is to establish guilt. This refusal 
to grant a list of witnesses, will have its effect on John 
Bull. He will not trouble his head about legal questions, 
but will at once regard it as a proof of a determination 
to ptmish the Queen, for having been made, by God 
Almighty, so disagreeable to her husband. I abstain 
from sa3dng what I think; but "all's well that ends 


Digitized by 




It is better, after what passed between us this morning, 
to confine my observations to what actually takes place. 
It is not in the range of probability that the Peers, in 
the long run, will not do justice, however much, in the 
mean time, some of them may be bamboozled by lawyers* 
wrangles. I, therefore, prepare to confine myself strictly 
to what I hear and see. 

It is now certain that the Queen herself will appear in 
the House. This will lend histrionic interest to the 
spectacle. It is utterly impossible that a party so in- 
terested can subdue her feelings, so as not occasionally 
to vindicate the presence of nature in her heart. I 
expect scenes of pathos and passion. 

One thing is equally certain, viz., that the Duke of 
Sussex, with great propriety, declines to take any part, 
or to be present, during the trial. He pleads the ties 
of consanguinity, and every one must admit the plea. 
But the Duke of York is seemingly less scrupulous ; 
and some think that his determination to be present 
augurs no good to the Queen. I really do think, how- 
ever, that there may be a feeling of kindness and good- 
nature in the conduct of His Royal Highness ; and for 
this curious reason : you remember, I dare say, my 
amusing intercourse with the old chire amie of the Duke, 
Mrs. Clarke, and how I wheedled her to show me all her 
papers. Now at that time she did inform me that His 
Royal Highness told her that it had been proposed to 
him to marry his cousin, the Princess of Brunswick. 
He was not, however, for some reason or another, 
quite enamomred of the suggestion ; still he went to 
the Court of Brunswick, that he might himself "spy 
the nakedness of the land.*' Upon seeing the Prin- 
cess, his courtly love was not inflamed into courtship. 
In a word, he did not like her; and what he heard 

Digitized by 



of her hoyden manners was not likely to reduce his 
heart to a cinder. 

Now, supposing all tales to be true, this one must be 
true also ; and I infer from it that, although the Duke 
may not have thought "the lovdy young Lavinia" 
was a con amore dulcinea for him, he might have discovered 
in her, or have learned that she was apt to commit, 
indiscreet levities, but innocent ones. Instead, there- 
fore, of auguring ill to her from his resolution to attend 
the trial, my notions, founded on the good nature of his 
character, are that he will be there, as friendly as a judge 
can be. Remind me of this opinion hereafter. It is 
needless to say an3rthing of the proceedings, of which 
the newspapers will give you a circumstantial account. 

Yours, &c. 


Lords are not Hterary characters. You are indeed a 
swain, and Miss Deborah, though of the relief persuasion, 
in the threescore cycle of acrid maidenhood, is no better 
than a nymph. What you and she have said respecting 
my last letter, oddly reminds me of a song which Lord 
Byron used to sing. By the way, whatever he may 
have been as a bard, he was certainly not marvellous 
as a singing bird, if I can trust my ears. 

Piangete Amabile, 
Piangete Amore, 
] Piangete aggrazie, 

* Nymphe' e pastore : 

La causa funebre 
Merita pieti. 

Do, for goodness* sake, never mind improbabilities; 
seek only for facts. Nothing often seems so improbable 
as the true. But I don't mean startling facts, but facts, 
of a different kind from those which your old neighbour. 

Digitized by 



Mrs. Brodie, laid so much stress on, when her hempy 
put forth sacrilegious hands, and stole the pot of marma- 
lade in so miraculous a manner, that she assures me it 
was next to an impossibility^ for she had locked the closet 
with her own hands. A startling fact. It turned out, 
however, that Willy, alias now the Colonel, on being 
put to the question, confessed that the door was acci- 
dentally left open in her absence, and before she had 
turned the key. It was the next time, when she opened 
the closet, that the delinquency was discovered. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ perhaps indiscretions should have been the 
word ; but be warned by the error, and, as I said before, 
never assume any opinion, in a case of this kind, theo- 
retically. All I adhere to is this. In the Princess's 
case, through the medium of my feelings, but crediting 
general opinion, I think she was deemed too vulgar to 
be a Queen ; if so, you will not be surprised that " Gentle- 
man George " wished her at the devil.* 

As to what your aunt said about the " shild " and 
" Mr. Rogier," it is not so orthodox as something she told 
me of in my teens, which the Rev. Dr. Doobie set forth 
in a sermon. " Take away the D, (quo* she, as said he,) 
and he is evil ; take away the E, and he is vil ; and take 
away the V, and is he not a perfect ill — an ill, vil, evil, 
devil, in whom the truth is not ? " In short, I am not 
going to angol, bangol with you, and far less, if it can be 
avoided, with Miss Deb. I wiU tell what I have heard, 
and I do not avouch for its correctness. In a word, you 
must not set me to demonstrate ; and* though Miss 
Deborah believes her Majesty as dignified as Zenobia, 

* As private characters, there were so many faults, on both sides, 
that the friends of neither party could, with reason, be violently bitter 
against either of them. Least said, was best of each ; but when 
publicity rendered these personages the gaze of the multitude, and the 
tools of faction, then ill-judged zeal blackened the conduct and cha- 
racter of each. It ¥rill be for posterity to judge impartially of both. 
[Original note.] 

Digitized by 



and as blamdess as Eve before the fall, theoretically, it 
will not change my notions. In truth, I cannot see now 
that the matter is of any consequence ; it is a black story, 
and would only be less interesting, were it not darfc in 
the tint. To me, it is as a tale, and I regard it only 
in that Ught. I think the Queen may have provoked 
much of the ill usage she received, by a kind of left- 
handed vindictiveness. She incurred what the nation 
laments, merely because she acted on a principle of 
defiance. She may have acted as a woman, but not 
as a lady. She was, however, a peculiar, as well as a 
particular woman. 

I But reflections of this kind will be more suitable at 
the end of her story than here ; inasmuch as they are 
suggested by the hearsay knowledge of things which 
have busied my mind, but which do not yet appear. 

One thing, by-the-by, remember — " the delicate investi- 
gation." Until the Princess of Wales went abroad, no 
circumstance affecting her honour came before the public. 
The world, however, thinks the gentle sex should be 
ever gentle. 

Yours truly. 


Dear [ ], — My servant had not returned from post- 
poning my last letter, otherwise putting it into the 
post-oflBce, as the laird of Mudoizart used to say, when 
poor Hector called with your note. So he is now a 
cadet. Much too handsome a bird to be as a grouse to 
the Burmese — that is, to be shot at ; but what can the 
poor leddy, his mother, do with her smaU family in the 
Highlands, where waterfalls and the echoes monopolize 
the vocations ? 

jjThe sight of the really fashionable-looking stripling 
renunded me of his mother, when, indeed, she was a 

Digitized by 



^^ delightful vision/* as Burke bas it, and whea my own 
mother said of her that *' She's a great romp ; but if 
she had not been so bonny ^ she would have been * ^ " 

Miss Deborah is quite right ; I have been mjrself too 
coarse in speaking of the I^cess ; but I only spoke of 
her, or intended so to do, as a royal personage. There* 
fore remember, when I use words that may seem to you 
derogatory, I always mean the inflection of rank to 
be considered. It did not occur to me before that 
you would ever apply them without that mitigation ; 
that you would ever apply them in the sense of your 
local vernacular. 

Your idea of trjdng to procure the Journal which you 
suppose the Princess may have kept, of her voyages 
and travels, is good ; but I never heard that she kept 
any, nor can I offer to be of the slightest use. It occurs 
to me, however, that perhaps some one of her attend- 
ants may have notes* At all events, it might not be 
very difficult to gather among them reminiscences, from 
which a narrative could be compiled. Consider the 
notion well, because it is deserving of serious attention. 

To resume my general strictures on the conduct of 
Her Royal Highness, — I think, however much we may 
differ as to the degree of her improprieties, we shall be 
in concord with herself and her persecutors at times, 
when we apprehend that it was not by either too much 
considered that she was only a Queen consort — ^a King's 
wife. One of the greatest indiscretions she committed 
was, in imagining, or in attempting to make herself, 
a pohtical character. Except with the most illiterate 
of the vulgar, it could have no effect — ^at least, no good 
effect — ^for herself. Men in this country have too much 
to lose, to risk a great deal in abetting any one whose 
claims are not very dear. Much, no doubt, will always 
be given for the magnanimity of the people in the way 
of S}nnpathy ; but it is e3timating their good sense at 

Digitized by 



too low a rate, to suppose they would ever array them- 
selves for action without they had a stake at issue. The 
age has indeed departed for ever, when swords would 
have leaped from their scabbards for any princess. The 
murder of the Queen and Madame Elizabeth of France 
was too familiar with all minds, and too recent, to afiFect, 
beyond sorrow, any feeling which the case of poor Caro- 
line disturbed. A friend of mine once heard a shop- 
keeper in the Strand say, while one of the processions 
was passing to Brandenburgh House, " AU this is very 
well, and, poor thing ! she needs heartening ; but there 
are too many shops in London to allow the keepers of 
them to be visitors, for who knows what ! " 

I am, however, constantly putting the cart before the 
horse. This refers to her treatment after the accession ; 
and I have much yet to say before we come to the trial. 
Besides, my paper will not afiord me " ample room and 
verge enough," at this time, to advert to an anecdote 
that perhaps at once serves to show her mistaken notion 
of the importance she thought herself of to the people, 
and of the kind of popularity she enjoyed. It was not, 
indeed, popularity as she understood it, but only S3nn- 
pathy — ^that " heartening " which the Strand shopkeeper 
alluded to with my friend. 

Yours, &c. 

N.B. By the way, the small family of Hector Campbell's 
mother reminds me of a pretty story of the late Duke 
of Argyll. A poacher from Greenock was brought before 
him in Roseneith ; " Why," said his* Grace, " have you 
been guilty of this ? " "- 1 have a small family to main- 
tain." " Ay ! " said the benevolent-hearted nobleman, 
" what may be the number ? " " Five daughters, sir, 
and every one of them has three brothers." " Poor man ! 
that is indeed a heavy handful, and I must let you off 
for this time, but do not repeat the offence." Scarcely, 

Digitized by 



however, had the delinquent quitted the room, when his 
Grace recollected that the five daughters with each 
three brothers, only made a family of eight ; and he 
laughed at the poacher's pawkiness.* 


Dear [ ], — It is a curious law of our nature which 

obhges us to think more about what we dislike, than of 
those things we positively esteem, and to encounter evils 
which conmion sense tells us we should shun. To one of 
the occult workings of this law I am inclined to ascribe 
the Princess of Wales's visit to the theatre, when the 
allied Sovereigns were present with the Prince Regent. 
She could have had no possible anticipation of enjoyment, 
when she formed the mad-cap resolution of going thither ; 
but revenge is, in some bosoms, a stronger passion than 
love. I presume to think she would not have lessened 
her dignity with the public, had she retired into the 
country while the foreign princes were in England. 
Surely she could not disguise from herself that she had 
incurred the aversion of her husband. That was, or 
ought to have been, a subject of grief. Nor was it the 
effort of an amiable spirit, to break in upon the jubilee 
of a triinnphant people. The Regent was in his public 
capacity : but she thought only of herself, with the 
resentment of an injured wife. 

The visit to the theatre I have never ceased to regard 
as an indiscretion, and to condemn, but with a sigh, as 
belonging to that series of fatal actions which greatly 
diminished her own comfort, and sharpened the torture 
with which she was aiHicted. What could she have hoped 
would result from the molestation ? She could not be 
actuated by curiosity to see the " mighty victors ; " or, if 

* Pftwkiness — ^i.e., quaint— running. 

Digitized by 



she were, the occasion was one in which the desiie would 
Uave been wisely suppressed. 

Kings and queens are things of posterity, and the 
individuals of them are regarded by their cont^mporaiies 
as men and women. The mind of the Princess was 
obsolete to the age and in England. It was all as of the 
time when rotten bones were deemed holy in Christendom ; 
bones which Heaven evidently despises, by making them 
carious. But this fault or defect increases, for her, pity 
or sympathy. Her part, in a word, was meek sedusion, 
but she obtruded herself in such a manner as to make 
indignant bravery seem like effrontery. 

I had an opportunity of seeing how differently she 
might have been regarded by all ranks, had she chosen 
to be more sequestered. I happened to be standing in 
the saloon of Malmaison, when the Emperor of Russia 
visited the much-injtured and quietly-degraded Josephine. 
He came in a plain private carriage, quite as one of no 
account ; but, nevertheless, there was something im- 
perially magnificent in this simplicity, this homage to 
fallen greatness. Whether he was expected by the house- 
hold, I do not know, but she received him alone in her 
boudoir. A lady, who was with her, came out as he 
entered, and no greater ceremony disturbed the trisU 
mansion than if he had been the most humble visitor, yea, 
myself. But would there have been such moral grandeur, 
filling, as the Greek poet says, "all the temple,'* had 
Josephine previously provoked more notoriety, and 
invoked Alexander to come to her with the avatar of a 
conqueror ? The incident, I do not affect to deny, moved 
me, I know not wherefore, into tears ; but it is probable 
that the Princess, though in a different manner, might 
have felt as keenly as the " crowned queen." 

It is a very common thing to regard feeling governing 
conduct, as if all feeling were alike ; but it should be 
remembered that feeling is in almost every one different ; 

Digitized by 



and perhaps those are not wrong who ascribe ostentation 
to coarse feelings. I think the motive which led the 
Princess to the theatre when the allied Sovereigns were 
there, affords not an equivocal comment on the nature 
of her spirit ; but that that spirit was such a one as 
could have been wished to have been manifested, will not 
obtain the universal assent of the public. 

Perhaps you will think with Miss Deborah, that I make 
midges mountains, in the conduct of the Princess ; and 
perhaps I do ; but I am convinced that much of the 
mystery of her story has arisen from not sufficiently 
considering her natural character, and the circumstances 
in which she was brought up. There is, to be sure, not 
much difference between the manners of a person of 
noble rank, and the manners of a royal personage ; but 
the natmral peculiarity always makes a great difference ; 
and when this natural peculiarity is strong, or an excite- 
ment arises which disconcerts the habits of discipline, we 
seldom can say what the effect will be. To determine 
what may have been the propriety or impropriety of the 
course which the Princess of Wales adopted, it is neces- 
sary to know, not only what provocation she may have 
received, but how far she was naturally able to constrain 
her feelings. 

Without having any very accurate means of judging, 
I am sure however that I do her no injustice, when I 
think that she*had very strong feelings ; and what I have 
now to say, or rather to say in my next, will render this 
palpable. It will also end my strictmres on her supposed 
ill-regulated /i^^^; for the tragedy of Caroline of Bnms- 
wick is only now about to be developed ; and every thing 
imputed or suspected previously to her going abroad, 
shrinks into a very pale melancholy, compared to what 
ensued. I only wish you to recollect that there may 
have been something in her ways which provoked what 
she suffered, and that the very drciunstance of mere 

u 2D 

Digitized by 



conscious innocence was likely to exasperate an im- 
passioned character unjustly accused. Like Byron's 
scorpion, which inflicts death on itself when surrounded 
with flames, in seeking to avoid one evil, she may have 
incurred another. 

Yours truly, 4c. 


August 21. l8SOk 

I have sustained a great disappointment to-day. An 
affair which could not be postponed, prevented me from 
getting to the House of Lords till after one of those coups 
de theatre which I had anticipated. It seems that, on 
the appearance of Theodore Majocchi, one of the witnesses, 
the Queen wildly exclaimed " Theodore ! " ♦ and inune- 
diately ran out. This caused an electric sensation among 
all present, and the newspaper reporter, who described 
the incident to me, looked as if he had an eye in each 
nostril, besides the orbs that " he did glare with ! '* 

I cannot of course refuse faith to the fact : every body 
beUeves it, and that is no doubt a proof of its truth ; but 
I gave a theoretical opinion respecting it, which sta^ered 
my informant, and yet it was but a very simple modifi- 
cation of the word uttered. I inquired if he was sure it 
was " Theodore : " adding, might it not be " Traditoie ! '' 
— ^traitor ? In fact, I do more and more think so. It 
was quite natural that a person of the Queen's reputed 
character should, at the sight of an old servant as an 
enemy, clench her fists, stamp with her feet, and indig- 
nantly exclaim, " Traitor." Besides, her sudden evasion 
is a corroboration of this idea. If sorrow, not anger, had 
been her feeling, it would not have prompted her to retire 
as she did. AU modifications of grief or sorrow are only 
modifications of dejection and submission, but there was 

* One venion said that the exclaimed " Tradtton I '* 

Digitized by 



a violent action, as a symptom of intrepid passion. What- 
ever the printed evidence may show forth, I will beUeve 
in my theory, even although I did not hear the exclama- 
tion. In the whole of th^ absurd inquiry regarding the 
Queen, (for so I think it is, and do call it,) personal nature 
is not considered ; and yet every thing hinges on that. 
This trial will hereafter be a monument of the length 
that folly may go, in the garb of wisdom. 

I shall not attempt to criticise the whole evidence of 
any witness I may happen to hear ; but occasionally I 
will treat their asseverations with conunon sense. 

What Majocchi had said before I was present, you will 
see in the evidence ; but one of the first things which 
excited my attention, and caused me to doubt his veracity, 
was a statement respecting the way of removing the light 
from the tent on deck, where the Queen slept. He said 
that Bergami sometimes handed to him the light from 
between the bottom of the tent and the deck. Now, I do 
not say this was impossible — ^but was it probable ? Would 
Bergami, at the hazard of setting the tent on fixe, have 
done such a thing — a thing so calculated to attract 
attention and excite speculation ? — or did the action, if 
it took place, show anj^hing of that conscious cowardli- 
ness which ever attends guilt ? You see, I do not doubt 
that Bergami slept in the tent with her Majesty ; but 
I contend, if he were there for a guilty purpose, he wo.uld 
not have committed actions to draw attention to his 
being there. 

All the subsequent assertions of the witness did not, in 
consequence of what he implied by this statement, weigh 
the worth of two straws with me ; for it was of the nature 
of inference, and deduced by the imagination. Besides, 
I do think he was a knowing rogue, who forgot to remember 
many things which perhaps might have changed the hue 
of his iosinuations. I do not say that what he did state 
was not enough to justify a strong suspicion of guilt itself. 

Digitized by 



in the members of an English society ; but this is the 
very thing complained of. The Queen was in foreign 
society, in peculiar circumstances, and yet our state 
Solomons judge of her conduct as if she had been among 
the English. For my part, I can discover nothing very 
heinous in her being attended in the bath by Bergami. 
It should be recollected, though that was not observed, 
that she would be in a bathing dress. I recollect being 
myself once in the pubUc bath, at Bath, when a young 
lady, an acquaintance, came into it. We wished each 
other good morning ; nay, she was interested in doing 
so by one of those laughable accidents not uncom- 
mon. Bubbles of air frequently rise from the springs 
at the bottom, and the sensation of them, as they ascend 
against the legs, is very Uke that of the touch. While 
we were speaking, she felt one of these bubbles rise, 
and, giving a scream or a skirl, rushed to another 
part of the bath. I solemnly declare the affair was only 

But a case more in point did happen to myself once in 
Paris ; which shows that the morals on the Continent, 
or among the southern continentals, are not so strait- 
laced as with us, and that the imagination has been 
allowed to swelter in foulness with respect to the Queen. 
I had occasion to go abroad early in the morning, and did 
not know how to get the key of the street-door. While 
I was asking for it on the stair, the lady of the house, 
a very piquanie personage, called to me from her bed 
chamber that she had it, and to come in for it. It was 
under her pillow. It would have been criminal to have 
imagined she was actuated by any other thought than 
what respected the key. 

This sad weighing up trifles among the Lords, is a 
making of midges mountains. We are unjustly trying 
a foreigner, for her conduct among foreigners, by an 
English criterion. However, this is enough on the subject 

Digitized by 



of Majocchi. I would not attach much importance to 
aught that he says. You will observe that he himself 
does not appear to be at all shocked or shame-faced at 
what he says. I shall therefore infer that he has been 
(may I say ?) taught to dwell so particularly on uncomely 
things, by one who did know how much they would revolt 
the English. 

Yours, &c. 


There is surely some mystic influence in rank, which 
makes persons of condition seem to suffer more in similar 
circumstances, than others of a humbler station ; as if 
the accidents of their troubles, being more widely known 
from their elevation, affected a wider range of sympathy. 
The snow on the far-seen mountains apprizes the snug 
vaUies of the winter. 

It is a natural feeling, thoughtlessly considered as 
vulgar, which teaches us to regard the distresses of the 
great as more affecting than those of lower men ; but the 
tragic poets only obey the dictates of nature, when they 
choose their heroes and heroines from subjects with blood 
royal. I cannot tell how this should be, but I feel that 
it is fitting. The corporal sufferance of the man who 
" seeks his meat " from door to door, cannot be greater 
than that of another man ; yet how different may be the 
anguish of the heart which he must endure, if he has been 
the nursling of afiSuence, and not accustomed to need! 
How different^thejcase of him who has been dandled 
into luxury, contrasted with the vocation of the poor 
mendicant who has lived- 'all his days on the brink 
of poverty ! " ThejLord's anointed " and the gatherer of 
samphire ! 

I was ruminating on this topic as I went down through 
the Park to the Parliament House, in the morning ; 

Digitized by 



and I could not but think that the Queen's griefe were 
sharpened into keener sorrow, by the mere drcumstance 
of her being a* Queen. If she be innocent, God for- 
give those who aflflict her ; and if she be guilty, how 
much more is she already pimished than any culprit in 
Bridewell I The same penalty does not affect all alike ; 
and this should ever be considered when punishment 
is awarded. 

This train of thought was not Ughtened by attending 
to the examination of Gaetano Paturzo. The first 
questions put to this witness filled me with indescribable 
amazement and indignation, to think there were men in 
the world, with wigs on their upper ends, who could 
display such ignorance. Was not the Princess of Wales 
in a vessel, and was it to be supposed that she could be 
otherwise accommodated than she was ? Why insinuate 
(for the asking of the questions did insinuate as much) 
that she was indolently accommodated at her own request, 
and by an arrangement purposely made to gratify im- 
proper desires ? ^' Angels and ministers of grace defend 
us ! " The lewd imaginations of these lawyers seem not 
to be aware that guilt is always, yes always, different. 
They have assumed that it has not its nature with the 
Queen ; and that it was part of its enjo3mient with her, 
to be ostentatious of criminality. 

In the course of the voyage to the coast of Palestine, 
to Jaffa, nothing whatever was elicited from the witness 
that ought to have been construed unfavourably ; and 
yet, I do assert, that there was a sinister attempt to do 
so. Why was this, if there had not been a desire to 
blacken the character of the Princess, and to produce a 
predisposition to find her guilty ? The Scottish peasantry, 
so celebrated by one of themselves, Bums, in the Cotter's 
Saturday Night, are acknowledged to be the purest race 
on the face of the whole earth.^ Is there one circumstance 
respecting the situation of beds and berths, in the vesad 

Digitized by 



wUdi caxried the Princess to Tunis, and thence to Pales- 
tine, that the holy sanctuaries of their cottages can equal 
for propriety ? Is it not the case, that these sanctiSBied 
dwellings often serve for kitchen, hall, and bed-room, yea, 
a bed-room with several dormitories ? I remember 
that when a boy, two years before I was sent to the 
grammar-school, a housemaid took me into the cotmtry, 
to her father's. The house had but one apartment, and 
there were three beds in it, with sliding doors. What 
ruffians would have dared to imagine that it was not 
sacred ? I see yet the old white-headed man, with " the 
big ha' bible " before him, presiding at the evening ex- 
ercises. Almighty God ! does the Scottish peasantry 
every night insult Thee with such imaginations as lawyers 
dare to utter in the House of Lords ! 

In sifting Paturzo regarding the journey to Jerusalem, 
the sUmy vipers which draw venom, as it were, from 
household herbs, were more successful. They laid open 
much to amaze the Peers of England, the most sybaritical 
inhabitants of the earth ; and (may I say ?) studiously 
kept out of view the circumstances of a journey in Pales- 
tine — leaving the sybarites to think that it may be some- 
thing very Uke a journey from London to Doncaster. 
It is certain, by Paturzo's testimony, that, in travelling 
to Jerusalem, the Princess slept in a tent, and that Ber- 
gami dined with her in it. Remember more particularly 
Bergami was then her cornier. Not a word was said 
that he had then been discovered to be a gentleman, as 
you have heard, of a family of fallen fortunes ; and, of 
course, it must have confounded such of the auditors as 
had never heard of this, to think that a Lady would be 
dining with her groom. But I must again, as in the case 
of the non mi rtcordo fellow, refer you to the evidence. 
See if you can find in it one, but one incident mentioned, 
that even a filthy mind would make the basis of an odious 
STiggestion, unless it is allowed that gmlt has lost its 

Digitized by 



nature with the Queen, and courts observation, as folly 
does when it believes itself virtue. 

Yours, &c."v; 

N.B. — I should notice how ignorant the Peerage must 
be of the value of freightage, to have started so marvel- 
lously as they did, when Paturzo stated what recompense 
he expected for his ship and trade. It was liberal, 
certainly, but not so much as any Mediterranean merchant 
in the city could have informed them ;— only at the rate 
of £2 4s per ton. 


I am not sure of having observed, in the evidence of 
Paturzo, his mentioning that the cause of the Princess, 
in returning from JaSa, sleeping in a tent on deck, was 
the heat of the weather, and because seven horses and 
two asses were below. Probably I did not ; for I was 
really so agitated to see a wish so manifest to represent 
every thing against Her Royal Highness foully, that I 
think indignation must have had the same effect as in 
attention. However, that was the cause ; and Gargulio 
indirectly rebukes me for neglecting so important a 

There certainly is no disputing the fact, that the Prin- 
cess and Bei^anM did sleep under the same tent, on the 
deck of the vessel, with the hatchway open to the twixt 
decks, where the other men slept ; and that there were two 
separate beds in the tent. It remains still to be shown 
that, notwithstanding the publicity of the situation, and 
the precaution of the two separate beds, they did sleep 
together, in the face of all considerations, and in defiance 
of the Princess's responsibihty as a wife, and as what she 
politically was. 

Now I would not higgle about the fact of the tent ; I 

Digitized by 



would admit it at once ; but I would deny what is at- 
tempted to be made of it, and demand more special proofs 
of guilt ; for I think it is so contrary to probability, such 
an insult to common sense, to think that, tmder the cir- 
cimistances, there was aught which was sought to be 
concealed. If nothing was sought to be concealed, how 
is it so difficult to prove the conmoission of the crime ? 
If the Princess was so eager to glare out a shameless 
person, as her enemies attempt to show she was indeed, 
how is it so difficult to prove her guilt ? How is it also 
that Bergami should not have had some of the common 
modesty of human nature ? That the Princess did and 
said many things which would have been deemed strange 
in another lady, I can very well beheve ; but that she 
had less shame than a cat or an elephant, I do not believe. 
I claim for her only to be allowed to have the common 
feelings of her sex, not very refined ones ; and I say that 
the circumstances from which guilt is inferred do not 
warrant — ^if she had those feelings at the time when it is 
supposed her misconduct was so flagrant — the inference 
drawn from the premises. 

I am interrupted, and must suspend what I have to say. 
It is not, however, important ; only, were I of a Scotch 
jury, " deep and dreadful " as the guilt is by some thought, 
I should feel myself obliged to return a verdict of 
*' not proven." I will resume oefore T go again to the 

Yours, &c. 


I cannot understand why so much importance is attached 
to the evidence^of Majocchi. i^/He did not state any one 
thing that indicatedVa remembrance of his having put a 
sense of indecorum on the conduct of the Queen at the 
time to which he referred : and in this I think the want 

Digitized by 



of tact in those who arranged the case is glaringly obvious. 
As men, they could not but have often seen that it is 
the nature of recollected transactions to afiect the expres- 
sion of the physiognomy, and particularly of those kind 
of transactions which the " iraditore " knew he was called 
to prove ; yet in no one instance did Majocchi show that 
there was an image in his mind, even while uttering what 
were thought the most sensual demonstrations. In all 
the most particular instances that pointed to guilt, he 
was as abstract as EucUd : a logarithmic transcendent 
could not have been more bodiless than the memory of 
his recollections. I do not say that he has been taught 
by others ; but I affirm that he spoke by rote ; and I 
cannot conceive why Brougham, who has a perfect dis- 
cernment, evidently, of his mind, did not overwhelm and 
confound him, as indeed an accursed thing. It is almost 
wanting in due reverence towards justice, to spare this 
fellow from condign exposure : but perhaps he is only 
respited. He was recalled yesterday after Gargulio, as 
you will see ; but instead of being withered into a cinder, 
as he ought to have been, he was only proved to be an 
equivocating scoundrel. It should be recollected that 
the majority of the world consist of the foolish, and that 
the majority of the Lords inherit the infirmity of the 
division they belong to. Many will think that the defer- 
ence paid to Majocchi is because it is thought that " he 
might, if he would ; " in short, that he has something in 
his power ; as if he had not told aU that he has to tell 
— ^possibly a great deal more.'^ 

Di Rollo, the cook, has sworn to much unseemly 
demeanour between the Princess and Bergami ; but he 
was also brought to confess circumstances that might 
have actuated him, by cherishing a grudge against Ber- 
gami, inasmuch as they had quarrels about his accounts, 
and that he was obliged to leave the service of the Princess. 
He said he was not discarded ; bi;t every one who has 

Digitized by 



been in those regions knows with what importance a 
character from any one connected with England is regardedf 
and what is told when it is said that a servant has no 
testimonial of his fidelity and honesty. It would not 
be just to say that a poor servant who quits his place 
abruptly cannot be credited, because he has no testimonial 
of worth ; but it is at least not satisfactory to find those 
to appear in this case as witnesses for the prosecution, 
who may have been biassed by private feelings to testify 

It is strange, I do think, that none of the witnesses 
called have yet, at least in my hearing, been sifted as to 
the history and condition of Bergami. He is still as a 
courier, and yet the rumour in the public is, that he is 
come, as we say in Scotland, of gentle blood. It ought 
to have been the duty of the agents for the prosecution, 
not to have shown themselves so anxious for conviction. 
It would not have shaded the hue of their integrity, had 
they in the outset so arranged matters as to have proved 
the fallen fortunes of Bergami, if they could do so ; for 
if of gentlemanly birth, it would, without doing an}^hing 
to prejudice their object, have greatly lessened the culpa- 
bihty of the Queen's famiharity towards him. 

I should also notice that I have heard, in private, much 
stress laid on the circtmistance of the neglect to which 
Bergami's wife was obliged to submit, while his child 
Victorine and all his family were admitted to associate 
with the Princess. But those who have been so impressed 
do not show much knowledge of the world, nor of in- 
dividual character. In the first place, they should 
previoiasly have known, before making the re^nark, if the 
wife was likely to have associated with the Princess even 
on invitation ; because it is a notorious thing that there 
is a modesty in some females, even of the lowest condition, 
which makes them shrink from the society of the great ; 
and, in the second place, that the Signora was in fact not 

Digitized by 



such herself as the Princess might, bold as she was, have 
desired to avoid. Besides, Bergami and his spouse might 
not have lived on terms that would have induced him to 
wish to bring her forward at all. Many considerations 
must be attended to, yea, and circumstances proved, 
before much heed can be given to iniquitous inferences, 
from her being apparently neglected by the Princess, and 
by his family too ; — ^for her absence from them makes a 
part of the mystery. 

I really consider it as due to justice to make these 
observations to you, because it is too obvious that a wish 
is manifested by the character of the proceedings, that 
the Princess may be found guilty, not only of the main 
charge, but of the general conduct that will warrant the 
proposed degradation. The trial is not fair. I do 
not think but the Peers will conscientiously decide accord- 
ing to the evidence brought before them ; but the animus 
of the measure is not good. Every witness hitherto 
produced, if not tainted, and with the plague spot red 
upon him, has the r6 di pesla very conspicuously. I wish 
the King may not be too anxious to justify himself to 
posterity, for his treatment of his friendless cousin and 
wife. Had there not been a craving for her guilt some- 
where, so many problematic stories of pollution would not 
have been brought forward. But enough at present. I 
grow more and more interested in the proceedings ; not 
so much with respect to the delinquency of the accused, 
as for the inevitable disclosure of the evil spirit which 
instigated, and presides over, the most singular manifesta- 
tion of personal antipathy on record. Why is it that 
many have so innately a desire to see others guilty, that 
spies and traitors are among the natural professions of 
men ? 

Yours, &c- 

Digitized by 




You English are often the most unreasonable of mortals : 
an ass that eats thistles on a common is not half so foolish 
with pride. This morning Captain Pechell, of the Clorinde, 
was examined. I dare say he is a very honourable man, 
but he was at great pains to prove that a sailor is " all 
as one as a piece of a ship." 

It seems, when the Princess was first on board the 
Clorinde at Civita Vecchia, Bergami olBiciated as a lacquey 
at table, when he, the noble captain, dined with her. 
But when Captain Pechell was afterwards to receive her 
again on board at Messina, his stomach tiuns at the idea 
of sitting down with Bergami, who had then been advanced 
from serving behind the chairs to sitting at table. 

I do not question the propriety of Captain Pechell's 
feelings ; and had he objected to what he felt would be 
degradation, on account of any alleged licentiousness 
between the Princess and Bergami, I would have thought 
his scruple deserving of every commendation. But that 
was not the case. His objection to make himself " joke- 
fellow " with the promoted courier, was because he had 
been promoted. I wonder if Captain Pechell never 
heard of such a coimtry as England, where, as in the case 
of the present Lord Chancellor, then before him in all the 
formality of wig and woolsack, it is very common for 
boys who have swept offices to overtop their masters, in 
time. It is very common, I believe, in the British navy, 
for midshipmen to become even admirals, yea, masters 
of as great men as Captain PecheU's masters. I cannot 
divine what the gallant captain was called for, if not to 
insidt the whole economy of the social conununity of 

The testimony of Captain Briggs, who followed Captain 
Pechell, was more to my taste, nor did I think the pro- 
f essionality of it too racy of man-of-war discipline ; but 

Digitized by 



I could not help askinf , why were these two officers 
called ? PecheU was only made to show himself very 
un-Englishly fastidious ; and Briggs in the style of a 
frank sailor, to acknowledge that he saw no improper 
familiarity between the Princess and Bergami. The 
matters about the arrangement of the cabins were really 
trivial. Gracious God ! to think that captains in the 
British navy would submit to act as pimps ! To imagine 
that either of these officers ^ould have knowingly lent 
himself to connive at and facilitate licentiousness, even 
in the Queen of the realm, is lower than I can grovel. 
We know that all men, for the gratification of their own 
passions and of themselves, do often very objectionable 
things ; but, for the pleasure of others, to become the 
ministers of guilt, has been ever regarded as the basest 
and meanest office in which the fallen can serve. 

In consequence of your intended absence, I shall not send 
this letter till I hear of your having returned, and will keep 
it open to add what may in the mean time transpire. 

Worse and worse ! one Pietro Puchi, a pookU bodie, 
who keeps sn inn at Trieste, was examined to-day. It 
appears that he remembers the Princess of Wales, with 
Bergami, coming to the Grand Albergo of that town ; that 
the bed-room of Her Royal Highness opened into the 
drawing-room ; that Bergami's opened from beyond the 
Coimtess Oldi's, who it now appears, was his sister ; and 
that her bed-room also opened into the dining-room. 
Now, in the name of intrigue, was this such an arrange- 
ment as the guiltiest hesdthy imagination could have 
fancied Ukely to facilitate. Crim, con. To suppose it 
such as was attempted to be insinuated, aigues absolute 
insanity ; for there is no saying what mad people will 
think. It, however, must be allowed, that this witness 
did swear to circumstances highly presmnptive of guilt. 
I can only say, for myself, that I did not believe him. 
Why all the ostentation of extmor demeanour, and yet 

Digitized by 



such private intimacy as he alluded to, flagrant to all the 
house ? In no stage of the Queen's imputed guilt is it 
even affected to veil the grossness of a lewd and furious 
passion for Bergami ; and yet, in every predicament, the 
nocturnal arrangements are planned, as in this brothel 
case^ with circumspection. If there had been such guilt 
between the parties as that they could not be decent 
among numbers, at noonday, how does it happen that 
they were never at any time found together en lit ? 

The Black Eagle of Trieste, the bird of prey's evidence, 
was virgin bashfulness to that of a German female of the 
name of Krass or Krantz ; and she came nearer to what 
is wanted, namely, the Princess and Bergami in bed 
together : for she said that she foimd the Princess sitting 
on Bergami's bed, and he l}dng in it, with his arms 
endearingly about her. 

Now mark this. It was physically untrue ; for the 
Princess could not have been sitting on either side of him 
so as to afford Krantz a view of his right or left arm being 
about her, and he recumbent at the same time. That 
the Princess may have been sitting on his bed, talking 
to him, may be admitted ; but it is attempting to prove 
too much to allege they were cardooing, as the Scots say 
of pigeons making love. Besides, the door was left open, 
or how did Krantz get into the room to see such a sight ? 
and was that a circumstance Ukely to have been neglected ? 
If this witness has told truth, the case, with its worst 
designation, is made out to the full satisfaction of all 
that the law can require ; but she has said too much, 
she has proved only that what she avers cannot be beUeved. 

I request you to attend particularly to what the wit- 
nesses Rugazzoni, Miardi, and Oggione say. They do 
not startle me, but they provoke me, that it should be 
thought there are men in the world such arrant fools as 
to credit such stuff. Bad as the whole case is, by making 
it more gross than in all human probability it could be. 

Digitized by 



the evidence, where it might otherwise be trusted, is 
rendered unworthy of credit. Sometimes improbability 
is demonstrated by af&rming too much ; aud this sad 
display of human infirmity as to morals, is rendered 
doubtful, by deducing, from things which might be 
innocent, criminal predilections. The innate grossness 
of conduct of the Princess I never have doubted, nor 
doubted that it would be made palpable. But the cer- 
tainty of this renders her guilt the more difficult of being 
proved ; it even, in my opinion, renders it improbable ; 
for such characters do many uncomely things without 
thought, that women of more deUcacy would never allow 
themselves to do but in the fume and intoxication of 
passion, the infatuation of a moment. 

Yours, dec. 


You mistake ; I do not say the Princess may not have 
given cause, where there was no disposition to put a 
palliative construction on her actions, to suspect the 
purity of her conduct ; but I do say, and think too, that 
she was that sort of person likely to have resented the 
imputation of guilt, by acting in such a manner as to 
suggest notions that she must have been guilty. This, 
you will say, is almost as bad as if she had really been 
a criminal : and certainly I do not attempt to extenuate 
the impropriety ; but we know there are persons in the 
world who think themselves very rigidly righteous, who 
do and say things that would have made Qeopatra, the 
gipsy, blush, or at least look through between her fingers. 
Nothing, indeed, is less disputable than that there are 
very worthy people in the world who consider themselves 
strictly innocent, merely because they have not actually 
sinned in the eye of hiunan law. I have shown, myself, 
very self-respected peeous characters give even verbal 

Digitized by 



utterance to thoughts and ideas that would have astounded 
the dissolute, as incredible imaginations. When you are 
better, and mingUng again in society, look sharply about 
you, and you will be convinced of this truth. It is, I am 
convinced, much more conmion than you seem to think, 
for many practically " decent folk " to believe, when they 
clothe their naked fancies in debonair phraseology, that 
the characters of their reflections are very deUcate. These 
persons, however, are not only as innocent as ostriches, 
but as stupid, hiding their heads in the grass while all their 
huge bulks are seen. The well-behaved would shrink from 
very many things which the Princess would laugh at. 

I think this notion of her character is true, and that 
it should be borne in mind, diiring the whole course of 
the exposure of the boil and ulcer of the State, which the 
" noodles " of the time are laying open for the benefit of 
the vile — ^for raising the corrupted in the scale of moral 
estimation. It does not seem to be recollected that there 
is truth in the old aphorism, which asserts that ^^ evil 
communications corrupt good manners " ; or undoubtedly 
the details of this filthy business would not have been 
shown to the sun — ^would not have been displayed for no 
other end, as it appears to me, than to prove that the 
world, bad as it is, is really a great deal worse than it is 
supposed to be ; and, therefore, one who does ill will be 
less secretly in the bosom condemned, than it may be 
expedient as yet to manifest. 

I am led to make these observations, to shxm, if it were 
possible, to say aught of a witness who inspired me with 
a supreme disgust ; but I wiU, as I must, speak of her 
by-and-by. I would rather, however, that I might skip 
her altogether. In the mean time, give me leave to 
mention a ludicrous anecdote of this solenm affair. 

Nature often mixes up the sublime and the ridiculous 
heedlessly, as it would seem ; and I met to-day with a 
curious instance of her indifference. I forgot how it 

II 2 E 

Digitized by 



happened ; but I was driven accidentally against a 
curtain, and saw» in consequence, beyond it Lord Castle- 
reagh sitting on a stair by himself, holding his hand to 
his ear, to keep the sound and words of the evidence which 
the witness under examination at the bar was giving. 
Notwithstanding the moody wrath of my ruminations, 
I coiild not help laughing at the discovery ; and his 
lordship looked equally amused, and was quite as much 
discomposed. He smiled, and I withdrew. I met him 
afterwards in the lobby of the House of Commons, when 
he again smiled, as if we had, as Lord Byron says, ** met 
in another state of being." 

I must, however, conclude this letter at once ; for I am 
not in a humour to-night to say what I feel should be 
said respecting the witness ; so excuse my sermonisiDg, 
and believe me to be 

Yours truly, &c. 


I am perplexed, and my perplexity was the cause of 
my not writing last night ; I cannot make up my mind 
to believe Louisa Demont, or not. Much that she stated 
has an air of truth and sincerity ; but she has a habit of 
considering things in two ways, and this actress habit 
proceeds from innate peculiarity. She reminds me of 
what has been said of Garrick and of many other players ; 
natural while actings and artificial while in her own 
character. No doubt, the truth respecting her is, that 
sometimes she states facts, and it is no less certain that 
she is a great liar. I say so advisedly and deliberately, 
because she seems at all times aware of what will be the 
effect of what she says ; but the cast of malice is not 
always to be discerned in her countenance. If the cause 
could have gone on without her, this dubiety so obvious 
should have prevented her from being called as a witness. 

Digitized by 



One thing, however, she has very clearly established — 
much more so than it was before — namely, that the 
Princess was surrounded by spies ; a circumstance which 
requires no argument to divine that those spies, like the 
Death of Bums, " would feel that they must do some- 
thing for their bread." The testimony of every one 
against the Princess must therefore be studiously and 
invidiously scanned. 

Many things which Demont stated, and which evidently 
surprised some of the Peers, did not so affect me, and 
for a curious reason. In many of her descriptions of 
the Princess she brought very vividly before me, a 
jocular old leddy whom I knew intimately in my boy- 
hood, and who, notwithstanding her occasional levity, 
was one of the purest minds and most unstained charac- 
ters I have ever known. I remember she so provoked 
me by offering to be my partner at my first ball, that I 
gallantly rushed from her house, and broke her windows 
for so making a fool of me. The whole air and manner 
of the Princess was so like the ways of my old friend, 
that I was none amazed to hear she sometimes danced 
by herself at her balls to the peasantry. Indeed, what 
Demont told of such doings, though it made many 
a grave and reverend senator look much aghast, only 
reminded me of innocent scenes that are dear to my 
memory, and now recollected among the happiest of 
my life ; and yet they were in their advent far from 
bdng joyous. Verily, verily, I am puzzled. 

Demont is too knowing ; * she knows how to state 
matters of dread import with a very "lassie like" 
simplicity, I would not credit, as I said often to myself, 
the half of the moiety of what she swears to, and yet 
I know not on what I would fasten to prove her derelict : 

♦ Harriet, Lady Granville, wrote (September 2, 1820) : " Mile. 
Demont was damaged by yesterday's examination. Her candour in 
avowing that she left the Queen's service for having been detected 
in a falMhood is said to have disguised the fact of having robbed her." 

Digitized by 



something, however, I will fasten on, some simple thing, 
too simple to be systematically remembered, and trust 
to the future to prove whether she has stated truth or 

She very much shocked some of her auditors by her 
insinuations about the monstrous dress in which the 
Princess appeared at a masque ball, as History. Now, 
the Princess appeared in two several characters that 
night, and the immaculate mademoiselle speaks of the 
order in which Her Royal Highness did so, viz., ist. 
In the character of a Neapolitan country girl ; 2dly. 
She then appeared as the genius of History. 

Now mark this : something struck me that Demont 
had not a very clear recollection upon the subject ; 
I therefore make this trivial thing a test because, in 
the course of her examination, she seemed as if she 
thought at the moment it might be made much of. 

Another thing which marked the left-handed character 
of her mind — she spoke of the Countess Dole as a vulgar 
Italian woman in her language, and yet she did not 
appear to be an adequate judge. However, Brougham 
noticed her flippancy on this point, and I should think 
will not forget it. 

But I will not say what I am inclined to think of 
Demont's evidence. It evidently contains much which 
may be true, but it has so much of system in it, that 
I shall not be astonished to find that her imagination 
has supplied inventions to give it a consistent form 
and purpose. I am sorry she has ever been called as a 
witness. Why ? you will say. I cannot tell. She has 
given me much to ponder upon, filled me with distrust, 
and, as Shakspeare sa}^, "filed my mind." There are 
a kind of persons who, from the very construction of 
their minds, should never be put in a witness-box ; and 
Demont is of this species. 

You will wonder why I make so much ado about this 

Digitized by 



hussy ; but a great deal more stress has been laid on 
what she has avouched than I think ought to have been. 
Why was she so long under examination if importance 
be not attached to what she says ? — and, if she be a liar, 
as indeed she has not affected to disguise she is, why 
insult justice by producing a witness imworthy of beUef ? 
I thought, at first, the whole of this affair quite a disgrace 
to the supposed wisdom of the state, because there was 
another and a better way of proceeding. But the moral 
shamelessness of considering Demont so important, fiUs 
me with dismal ideas. What will posterity think of us, 
if it shoidd tmn out that the whole British ministry 
have lent themselves to the ignominious purpose of a 
King^that cannot be much esteemed ? 

Yours, &c. 


I have resolved to suspend my strictures on this 
curious royal trial,* and resume my observations on 
the witnesses. My feelings are constantly reminding 
me of the ill-usage the Queen has sustained, ever since 
she had the misfortime to be connected with us, and I 
feel that I would acquit her merely on that account. 
But I shall not be bird-motUhed^ in the end, if some much 
blacker evidence be not disclosed than has been. Why 
coidd the charges not have been supported by less 
doubtfid characters ? but " anon, anon. Sir." 

After the inmiacidate viigin Demont, Luizi Galdini 
was examined ; a mason, that made or mended a cornice 
in the ville d'Este, where the Princess some time resided. 

* Lady Granville's comment about this time is : "In the enthusiasm 
shown by the mob for the Queen, they give amusing proofs of the 
refinement of their ideas and the measure of her popularity. They 
call after Billy Austin, ' God bless yon and your mother/ and caU 
fruitjj^bout St. James's Square, cr3ang Bergami peaxs and Caroline 
apples. They say she is getting dreadfully bored, and d3nng to go 

Digitized by 



You will see this man's evidence in the printed account 
of it, and, therefore, I will say no more than that it was of 
a kind which made many a Thane and Baron bold blush 
redder than the copper of a lawyer's countenance. 

The next brought forward was an ornamental painter, 
one Finetti, occasionally employed at the villa, who 
swore to seeing Bergami and the Princess several times 
kiss and slaver each other. Is this credible ? A trades- 
man, hired to do jobs ! How was this witness thought 

The next witness, another mason, was still more 
improbable in what he states. He was called Buezo. 
He saw, forsooth, the Princess and Bergami, across two 
rooms, pawing the cheeks of one another, and doing 
other namby pamby lovingnesses. 

To him succeeded one Bianchi, who saw the Princess 
and Bergami bathing together in a canal ; but he was 
ready to acknowledge that the Princess was dressed at 
the time. Who ever imagined that being in cold water 
and dressed, was a more unchaste predicament than in 
being in the open air ? Mind, I am not speaking of the 
impropriety of the thing, but of the filthy imaginations 
that could conjure sin out of such a circumstance ! 
Why was this goat-headed witness brought at all ? If, 
to prove impropriety, that was already as palpable as 
that the Lord Chancellor wears on the woolsack a very 
unbecoming wig. 

Then came Lucine, a white-washer, alias a stainer; 
and he saw the parties in a padu venellay the Princess 
sitting, because she could not do otherwise in that kind 
of vehicle, on the knees of Bergami. One Carlo Carotti 
followed the stainer, and made out, if he spoke truth, 
much of the same sort of imseemliness that others had 
done, — ^but nothing more. Gafrino, another mason, 
came next, and proved nothing but that he had had a 
Job to do at the villa d'Este. The effect of this individual's 

Digitized by 



evidence was very vile, for it was so turned as to fill the 
minds of the Peers with uncleanness, by natural inference, 
while it was as decorous as a lawn sleeve. To him 
succeeded one Rastelli, a stable yard delicate, who had 
been suspected of stealing com, and had been dismissed 
the service of Her Royal Highness, by his own confession, 
for what was in his place deemed a misdemeanour. Of 
Rastelli, it is only necessary to remark that the coimsel 
on both sides seemed to be aware that this fellow was, in 
sterling EngUsh, a rascal. I only wonder why Brougham 
did not bray him in a mortar. He got ofE too easily. 
Why was this ? 

Egali, a waiter, was next. God forbid that I should 
imagine integrity, in any degree, depends on condition ; 
on the contrary, I do think that condition is often the 
best test of its worth. He spoke of improprieties, and of 
actions that could not have been tolerated in man and 
wife ; nor, I stispect, if the parties were living together, 
as it was insinuated they did, would have taJcen place 
so openly. But I will, as I have said, restrain my pen 
till the case is closed. One thing, however, I do not 
doubt, will be made clear ; it will demonstrate that this 
sullying investigation ought never to have been made. 
I find several friends much shaken in their belief of the 
Queen's innocence ; and others who did not think her 
" fine gold," in great wrath that all the witnesses against 
her are not so good as they should have been. For 
myself, the question of guilty or not guilty has ceased 
to be a topic of consideration. But I am interrupted. 
Good night. 

Yours, &c. 


Q[ ]!finternipted me last night, and 1 have since 

been obliged to go to East Sheen ; so that what I havb 

Digitized by 



to say, latterly especially, is not from actual impression, 
but the effect of what I have heard from others, who 
were spectators and auditors. 

One Orto, a baker, testified to certain misdemeanours, 
but not to any action which went to prove more than 
that secretly cooing was often seen by him between 
Bergami:and the Princess. This has been proved to 
loathing, if the witnesses may be trusted. 

Gouigiardi, a boatman, was next to Orto. He has 
a wanton imagination, and spoke of things that were 
not evidence, but pimp]ings of indecorous imaginations. 
To him followed Zacchi, whom the gentleman that heard 
him said was a so-so witness. He spoke of things which 
seemed at first very bad, but, when questioned, lost 
their crimson tint. For example, he spoke of seeing 
Beigami and the Princess in bed together; but, on 
being questioned, they were both dressed, sitting on a 
bed, and resting with their shoulders against the wall 
beyond. Another curious inadvertency escaped him. 
One night, when the weather was so insufferably warm 
as to oblige him to leave his bed and go to the window, 
he swore that he saw Bergami, in that hot time, go to 
the Princess. Where was the need of swearing the 
weather was so insufferably hot ? But I have to refer 
you to the printed account of his examination, for the 
words he uttered. My friend sajrs, however, that his 
manner did not seem to inspire confidence, and it is only 
for the impression of the manners of the witnesses that 
you trust to me. He also said that more seemed to be 
known of him than was shown ; that several peers seemed 
to know something of him; and that Lord Grey, in 
particular, asked if he had not been known in Paris by 
the name of Milan ? 

Majocchi, the famous non mi ricordo gentleman, was 
re-examined by Mr. Brougham, and the effect was rather 
to shake confidence in his testimony, than to elicit new 

Digitized by 



facts. After this, the evidence for the prosecution 

In the course of the trial. Lord Liverpool has intimated, 
I understand, that the divorce clause in the Bill would 
not be persisted in, or that it might be abandoned ; not, 
however, because there was any doubt of the guilt, but 
because to ask for it imder the circumstances, would 
seem as if the King was differently to be dealt with in 
justice than a poor man. Why, then, was it ever sought 
for ? and why, as I have often said, were the other 
penalties in the BiU introduced at all — or, indeed, the 
Bill itself ? In voting an establishment for the Queen, 
an opportimity could have been taken equivalent to 
all the Bill could do. If the divorce clause is not to be 
inserted, I cannot penetrate the mystery of the whole 
proceeding ; but, if the ministers had felt the dignity of 
themselves properly, they would not have submitted to 
lower themselves to what I do in my conscience believe 
was a measure instigated by the personal bad passions 
of the King. 

It is very lucky perhaps for me, that what I think of 
this coomy affair will not offend the King, because he will 
not know of it ; and you know me too well to conceive 
that I think the ministers have acted worse in the business 
than weakly, and unlike men of the world. I believe 
them to be, one and aU, very honest men, but, assuredly, 
I do not consider them " the noblest works of God." 
They never seem to have thought that the nation has no 
more to do with the domestic squabbles of Mr. and Mrs. 
Guelph of the Crown, than with the fisty-cuff proceedings 
of Philpot and his wife of the Red Lion. Now, this was 
a case that affected the King and Queen ; and, as King 
and Queen, the public was interested in it. It was a 
mean conception to imagine that it could be treated 
as having reference only to a man and his wife ; and« 
after all, but this only is made of it — the King is not in 

Digitized by 



a condition to ask for the relief he claims, and the guilt 
of the Princess is not so unequivocal that the nation 
will submit to see her divorced. I grant you that there 
may be enough proven to place her habitual mdecorum 
beyond question — to warrant, if you please, degradation ; 
but a Bill of Pains and Penalties, objectionable as it is 
constitutionally, though not without precedents in bad 
times, is not the way to do justice in the case. However, 
let us see what the defence will be. One thing is clear, 
that the evidence against her does not equal in fragrance 
the heavenly amaranth, and, I am sure, would tnake 
an ordinary jury reluctant to return a verdict of guilty, 
even though they might not have any doubt of her guilt ; 
the punishment proposed is so disproportioned to the 
offence, considered with reference to the provocation. 
We shall be enabled to judge all by her defence ; but, 
i priori, it seems remarkable that she should have been 
so ostentatious of her fondness before so many tarnished 
servants, and yet so stoutly assert her innocence here. 
It is not within the range and scope of ordinary human 
nature that she should maintain such bravery. I can 
imagine her to act in defiance of imputations, because it 
is not difiicult to conceive how provocation might act 
on such an impassioned temperament. But two things 
harassed my powers of supposition ; ist. That she should 
have played the part she is represented to have done by 
all the witnesses, except the English officers, who said 
nothing of her very bad ; and, 2d. That, with a know- 
ledge of the allegations which might be made, and with 
a consciousness of guilt if true, she should stiU brave 
the whole world, and set the discernment of the British 
peerage at defiance. If not both mad and bad, she. is 
much indeed to be pitied. 

Yours, &c. 

Digitized by 




There is certainly some m)rsterioiis pleasure in thinking 
of the innocence vindicated of accused persons. I was 
very sensible of this prospective delight in going across 
the park this morning to tiie House of Lords, to hear the 
defence of Her Majesty opened. The case, as I have 
often said to you, was either too bad or too black to be 
exposed ; and, in consequence, as I thought it, over- 
charged was my anticipation of the gratification I shoidd 
receive from finding it less odious. I frankly own to 
you, I wished with all my heart that she should be found 
guiltless ; not because she is a Queen, but because I have 
enjoyment in the bleaching of imputed error or crime. 
I do, however, relish, as you know, the detection of 
hypocrisy in its sins, and of the exposure of those sort 
of plated characters who look so precious in the side 
they present to the world, but which are generally, at 
last, found out to be of very little intrinsic value. 
Carolme of Brunswick is not one of this kind; her 
fault is to be too ostentatious of her indiscretions, and 
too brave in her defiance of opinion. But a truce with 
reflections, — I will now proceed with my comments. 

The first witness called was a Mr. Lemann, a clerk 
in the service of the Q^een*s solicitor. He had been 
sent to Baden to solicit the attendance of Baron Dante, 
the Grand Duke's chamberlain. His testimony, I dare 
say, — I mean Mr. Lemann's, was not thought important ; 
but to me it seemed very. It appeared that the Baron 
had kept notes of certain transactions, which notes he 
consulted before he deposed as to what he could state. 
Now, was not this curious ? How did he happen to 
keep such memoranda ; and why was it so arranged 
bietween him and the Grand Duke afterw^ds, that he 

Digitized by 



should not come to England ? Moreover, if these notes 
had been such as would have been agreeable to George 
IV., why should he have expressed any anxiety con- 
cerning his estate in Hanover ? Make of it what the 
Peers may, the testimony of Mr. Lemann, without 
directly proving much, really implies a great deal, and, 
for Her Majesty, — intimating at tiie same time, that the 
Baron had been requested to observe her behaviour — 
I don't say he was a spy — he would not submit to be 
that — ^but his having kept notes, as the Scotch lawyers 
say, anent her conduct, proves the existence of the 
espionage system, with which she was surrounded. 

Colonel St. Leger was next called ; but he proved 
nothing, imless it can be accoimted something that he 
resigned his appointment in the Queen's household 
after her retmn. The cause of his resignation, as he 
swore, was ill-health. 

The Earl of Guildford followed, and he deposed to 
his observation of the general propriety of the Queen's 
conduct. I must here mention that this, though in 
her favour, does not weigh much with me. Every one 
who knows anything of Lord Guildford personally, must 
have observed that he is naturally disposed to take 
indulgent views of aU mankind. He is, I think, even 
singularly imlikely to give way to suspicion of any kind. 
Either Bergami acted very adroitly towards his Lordship, 
or was a person of innate modesty, not at all like the 
impudent libertine which the witnesses for the prosecution 
described ; for Lord Guildford spoke of him as having 
Uttle to say, and being probably not much changed in 
his manners, as a baron, from what he had been in his 
himible capacity as a courier. 

Permit me to remark that this observation deserves 
special attention. Bergami does not appear to have, 
been in any respect different fromT the , other menials, 
in the^character of his abilities ; and, therefore, he was 

Digitized by 



the more likely to cause their envy to be awakened by 
his advancement. When a man evidently possesses any 
degree of that which is called genius, his comrades are 
proud to see him advanced ; but, when he is only Uke 
themselves, or thought to be so, they look askance at 
his promotion. This is universally the case ; a man 
or woman always ofiends their families and contem- 
poraries, when they step, by reason of the promptings 
of talent, into a circle which the others may not enter 
and for some superiority which it has not been thought 
they possessed. But I am interrupted by a stranger, 
and must conclude, 

Yours, &c. 


I was going to state that Lord Glenbervie succeeded 
the Earl of Guildford. His testimony only went to show 
that Bergami, in his capacity as a courier, behaved as 
a respectful servant when attending at table. I do 
not, however, see the use of bringing forward occasional 
guests as witnesses in a case of this kind. It is not to 
such that the flagrancies of passion are disclosed ; all 
that such witnesses may prove can only be that cunning 
was dextrously employed to conceal ; they cannot prove 
innocence, and it is thai which is wanted to be proved. 
One thing, however, Lord Glenbervie made decidedly 
clear, namely, that the odour of the Princess's reputa- 
tion could not then have been very bad, for he consented 
that his lady should act as the lady-in-waiting till 
another arrived. I will not beUeve that any English 
gentleman would have allowed his wife to do so, had 
the character of the Princess been tainted, and tainted 
so foully as we are taught to believe it then was. 

Lady Charlotte Lindsay succeeded Lord Glenbervie, but 
her evidence is not finished. It was a painful spectacle, 

Digitized by 



on her own account, to $ee the disclosures which h«r 
lad3^hip was obliged to make of her domestic drciun* 
stances.* I caimot discern any necessity for putting her 
so TO THE QUESTION, uor was aught obtained from her, 
but that she had much private distress, and an affec- 
tionate and considerate mother. Reports undoubtedly 
respecting misconduct on the part of the Princess of 
Wales had reached both her and him, but she could 
only testify to the circulation of such reports ; she had 
not herself seen anything to justify — to confirm them. 

I did not send my letter ofi yesterday. I thought 
it best that all which Lady Charlotte Lindsay had to 
say should be completed ; but nothing further than 
what I have already stated was eUdted at her second 
appearance. Look, however, carefully hereafter at the 
printed evidence, for my attention was much molested 
by several Scottish friends, to whom I am obUged to 
do cicerone. They go with me to the House, and, like 
all our countrymen, they have hungry eyes for great 
characters, and I was often obliged to gratify them by 
pointing out several whose titles they had heard, and 
that, too, in the most interesting junctures of the evi- 
dence. I am myself very national, but my nationality 
is pink, compared with the crimson of these. They 
afiected to be as much interested as I am in the object 
of the trial ; but deuce take me if I do think they care 
a black bawbee about the matter. One of them, a Camp- 
bell, was of course more anxious to have the Duke of 
Argyll shown to him than any other fact ; I say fact, 
for he spoke as if, per se, the Peers could discrimination 
facts better than other men ; and what they admitted 
must, of course, therefore, be only facts. 

Of William Carrington's evidence I was unable to 

• Lady Granville wrote (October 5): "Only a moment. Lady 
Charlotte L)mdsay {sic) did it well. The Attomey-General very 
ofiensive in his manner to her." 

Digitized by 


attend to a single word. It was not, however, of any 
consequence. All I could learn was that he showed 
that Majocchi was at one time full of wrath against 
Ompteda, and that he himself knew something of Italian. 
One Siccard, a cook, came next, who caused me to 
prick up my ears. He must be a deviUsh clever fellow 
naturally. He dehvered himself $0 wisely well in manner^ 
that what he said I did think such as I could have wished 
to hear from all the Queen's witnesses. It did not go 
far, but it was probable and sensible. I own that he 
interested me by the manliness of his manner. I may 
be mistaken, but I think what he said must have made 
a favourable impression for himself, and a very favourable 
one for his royal mistress — all this because he seemed to 
have seen matters with the eyes of common sense. 

It struck me, however, and also others, that the 
witnesses called for the Queen were not hitherto judi- 
ciously selected. Of their character no doubt could 
be entertained. Compared with the witnesses for the 
Bill, they were as precious stones to mud and gravel ; 
but they were not, unless acute and shrewd observers, 
exactly the sort of persons which should have been 
summoned. This was particularly conspicuous when 
Dr. Holland was placed at the bar, to deUver what he 
had to say. His grave aspect, as many observed, was 
of the very kind to awe naughty children suddenly into 
pretty behaved delinquents, when surprised at their 
romps. Besides, his looks indicated study and reflection ; 
not that kind of roving glancing which sees further into 
a millstone than a Lord Chancellor can do into a cask 
when the bunghole is closed. Yet, Dr. Holland's testi- 
mony was even more favourable to Her Royal Highness 
than that of any one who has yet been examined. His 
answers were exact and decisive, indicating, at least, 

The evidence of Mr. Charles Mills was, in one respect. 

Digitized by 



better than that of Dr. Holland ; but then he spoke 
of the conduct of the Princess and Berganii towards 
each other in pubUc — at least before company. I do 
not think that such witnesses can do much good. It 
is menials we want, and those for the prosecution were 
of that description ; they only told more than cotdd 
be credited ; and, by-the-by, they laid much stress on 
the dromfistance of the Princess often seeing strangers 
in her bedroom, — as if it were something extraordinary 
to them. I am sure this must have proceeded from 
what they had observed it produces on the minds of 
EngUshmen ; for it is a conunon custom with French 
and Italian ladies to receive company in their bed-rooms. 
Many of the peers were probably struck with horror 
at the indelicacy of Her Roy^l Highness receiving com- 
pany in her bed-room ; but, assuredly, those who have 
been in France or Italy would not. The only thing to 
cause wonder about it was, that the servants, used to 
the custom, should have noticed it at all. I do think 
that their noticing it, (God forgive me !) was very like 
the effect of prompting. Yet the character of the 
Conunissioners sent to hunt for facts by which certain 
charges might be supported, precludes this idea : they 
were " all honourable men." Were they, however, 
also wise ones ? 

Yours, &c. 


I am fashed ; these Scotch blockheads are as helpless 
in London as the babes in the wood ; and you must, 
for their sakes, pardon my irregularities. You will, 
indeed, be charitable if you overlook my seeming 
negligences, for I am so pitiful-hearted for their igno- 
rance, that I give up to them much of my spare time. 
They go with me to the trial, but they count on my 

Digitized by 



going with them " all about the town," when I am not 

The evidence of Col. Theoline, yesterday, was, I 
thought, impressive. It was all about Bergami, and 
produced a very different effect, I am sure, from that 
of the witnesses against the Queen. This, I think, must 
be your opinion too. Considering him (Bergami) as 
a person in a humble station, it was much to his credit. 

The Earl of Llandafi folbwed him. He had been 
abroad with his lady and family ; but what I have 
chiefly to remark is, that his evidence tended to confirm 
what I said last night respecting the custom of the 
Italian ladies receiving gentlemen in thdr bed-chambers. 
Hani soit qui mat y pense. I am glad this circumstance 
was so clearly explained, for many "decent folk" 
have remarked, with heavenward eyes, on the supposed 
indecorum of a Princess holding such a levee. 

The Hon. Mr. Keppel Craven Mras still more decidedly 
in favour of Beigami. It was by him that he had been 
originally engaged for the service of the Princess, and 
a Marquis ♦ with an odd sort of name, recommended 
him very particularly. This was to the point. Hitherto 
the character of Bergami in the Princess's household 
was unaccountable ; now it appears that he was more 
than ordinarily well introduced, and that the Marquis 
respected his family. It is not to be supposed that the 
Marquis would have known much about them, had they 
not been at least better than common. I wish you would 
compare Craven's evidence with that of the flippant 
damsel Demont, and also Siccard's with that of the 
same female individual, in what r^ards the dresses of 
the Princess at the masquerades. Not so great a dis- 
crepancy results as I did expect would be discovered 
from Demont's confusion, but enough to show she had 
not so perfect a recollection as by her manner she tried 

♦ Ghislieri. 
II 2 F 

Digitized by 



to make appear. — ^There was a firmness of tone in all 
Mr. Craven said, that seemed to make it like very pure 
truth. I would rest much on his testimony, unless it 
could be proved that he is as habituated to double enr 
tendres as the Swiss maiden ; or rather, to use the defini- 
tion which a reverend friend of mine once gave in the 
pulpit, of a maid — " the yoxmg unmarried woman." 

One thing I had almost forgotten : mark well what 
Mr. Craven says about spies, and his admonition to the 
Princess about being seen with Bergami in attendance 
as a servant. It speaks, as an old judge said to mysdi, 
"most voluminously.** 

Sir William Cell was summoned after Craven ; and 
what he related confirmed the other's averments, re- 
specting the former respectability of Bergami's family, 
and his personal condition. In some particulars, the 
testimony of Sir William Cell greatiy agitated me." It 
suggested to me, that in the general opinion of the world, 
a man of fallen fortunes is morally tainted : as if the 
disasters which Heaven occasionally showers upon the 
earth, were not impartially distributed. In fine. If 
Sir William Gell spoke truth, the Princess is an 
INNOCENT WOMAN. Her drcumspection may not, as 
the Yankees say, have been first quality; but the very 
consciousness of having nothing to conceal, wotdd betray 
such a character into many levities that could not be 
applauded. But I must repress the inclination which 
I fed at this moment to declaim, " O Heavens ! in thy 
sight guilt may not be sin ! " 

I shall say nothing of Whitcomb's evidence. Read 
it. He was valet to Mr. Craven, and verily, verily, 
proves, of his own knowledge, that he knew the maiden 
Demont vras " a young immarried woman." 

To me the trial ba:x)mes interesting ; and I could 
wish these Scotch cousins "far enough." They not 
only molest me in the court, but prevent me from writing 

Digitized by 



my notes, when the matter is distinctly recollected, 
after I return home ; for they dog my heels. I wonder 
how it is that so few of the world have eyes in their 
understandings, and }^t have big enough ^' balls of 
sight," as ColUns, the poet, calls them, in their heads. 
It is not fitting, as you know, that I should tell Tom, 
Dick, and Harry, of my being so special in noticing 
the demeanor of the witnesses; but they might see, 
without a nod and a wink, that I have more to do than 
meets the ear in this a£fair. I hate to be always obliged 
to say why and wherefore I do this or that ; it is enough 
that I write down every day when I come from West- 
minster something or another, to make the cuifs see, 
were they possessed of any right gumption, that I must 
have occasion for some time to think. I know y:m will 
not approve of my assumed civility towards these country 
cousins, and possibly think, I should tell them at once, 
as a waiter in Palermo advised me to do to a talkative 
cicerone, " to go to the devil." But really, I have not 
courage ; for if it were not for the trial, I would think 
them pleasant old acquaintances. ^^ What a strange thing 
is circumstance ! " says Horace Walpole ; and so say I. 

Yours, &c. 


I said in my last letter that the trial was becoming 
interesting to me. I should not have said exactly so. 
It is only to see the result I am interested, for my mind 
is made up. I am conscious that the Queen is innocent 
according to the evidence, as I consider it ; but I do 
not think she will be acquitted of indiscretion, and I 
am only anxious to see how she will be treated. All the 
Bill of Pains and Penalties ♦ cannot and will not now 

* In the end the current joke was, " Why is the Queen like the 
Bill of Pains and Penalties ? "—-Answer, " Because they are both 

Digitized by 



be abandoned ; but what the hue of her degradatioA 
may be, is perplexing. For the character of the country 
I wish the whole matter was shovelled into the kennel ; 
and I am decidedly of opinion that the prolongation of 
the question is detrimental to the monarchy. I do not 
blink the matter, as crime in all cases should be proved 
where it is accused ; or where it cannot be proved, it 
should not be endeavoured to be so. Acquittal or doubt 
gives opportunity for repentance, and repentance is 
the next best thing to innocence, as far as society is 
concerned. Besides, were the Queen found guilty, her 
guilt to the nation would in one sense be but a negative 
crime. I do not think this peculiarity is half considered, 
either by the King or his ministers. It is quite obvious 
that the rule of man and wife cannot be appUed in justice 
to a King and Queen. Their marriages are made up 
for their nation, and the consideration of mutual affection, 
which is so essential an ingredient in domestic life, does 
not enter into the composition of the happiness which 
is expected to result from their union. Nature in this 
case is, perhaps, opposed to justice, and nature should 
be deferred to. It is assuming too much for man to say 
what is justice ; but he can always consult nature ; and I 
suspect that, where nature is, justice cannot be far ofi. 
AUow me, before proceeding farther, to explain an 
apparent inadvertency, as you may perhaps think it. 
I said that if Sir William Gell spoke truth, the ^een 
was innocent, and I say so still. No doubt you may 
say, also, that if the other witnesses did the same, there 
can be no doubt of her guilt. Granted. But, in the 
first place, they told improbable stories ; and, in the 
second, none of them had the look of speaking from 
recollection ; not one of them ; and I lay much stress 
on that circumstance ; for, although I am no lawyer, 
nor can tell what my notion may be good for, I am yet 
metaphysician enough to know that there is a visible 

Digitized by 



di£Eerence between the expression of the countenance 
in telling a recollection, and an imagination, especially 
in such stories as they told. They could not, in the 
pretended remembrances of their ribaldry, have seemed 
less impassioned, if they had been contemplating a 
mathematical point : Sir Isaac Newton, developing 
his theory of attraction, must have been more so than 
to the most voluptuous of them all. Even " the young 
unmarried woman," Demont, felt less in her blushes 
than the rose among the thorns. 

[ But I will go on with my remarks on the different 
witnesses. You may judge of what they say as you 
think right; but I can tell you, that there is a wide 
difference between the evidence of a printed paper, 
and the viva voce testimony of the vision of a human 

» One thing I was greatly struck with : — a witness 
examined to-day had been a cabinet courier to the 
Viceroy of Italy ; his name was Forte : all he said must 
have told in the Queen's favour ; and he gave an ex- 
planation of French and Italian servants kissing their 
ladies' hands, that could not but amaze some of the 
Peers, who perhaps thought that only the paws of lions 
and unicorns were ever Idssed. But that which merited 
most attention, was a shake of his head, more emphatic 
than Lord Burleigh's in the Critic, or the " no, no," of 
the most eloquent orator. He was asked, if he ever 
saw Bergami kiss the (well stricken in years) Princess : 
and his negative was just like that of an honest man. 
He acknowledged, however, that, according to the 
custom of the Italians, he has seen Bergami kiss her 
hand on taking leave ; saying that he himself had done 
so, both to the Vice-Queen and the Empress Josephine. 
By-the-by, it is curious, and but little known among 
us, that the court and nursery practice of kissing hands 
is an outlandish way of parley voaingf imported, as some 

Digitized by 



think, at the restoration of Charles II., with fuU bottomed 
wigs and the unities of the drama. 

I was afflicted by the examination of Lieutenant 
Flynn. It was evident that a dead set was made to 
bamboozle the poor fellow. He could tell nothing 
confirmatory of the nan mi recordo crew, and was made 
unable to tell an3rthing. The Solicitor-General threw 
him into a quandary about an Italian or a Sicilian ; 
just as if the difference could be very nicely discriminated 
by an English sailor. How would even the Chief-Justice 
of England have made it appear ; for I'U venture to 
say, that John BuU knows as little of the difference 
between a Sicilian and an Italian, as he does of that 
between a negro and a blackamoor — ^a celt and a savage. 
I was very indignant at the great self-sufficiency with 
which poor Lieutenant Flynn was treated ; and it would 
not have surprised me, if, sailor like, he had given the 
Solicitor-General a good snubbing for his jaw. What 
between natural bashfulness, and indistinctness of mind, 
Flynn could not be a good witness, either pro or con. 
Perhaps this was seen, and was the cause of so much 
ado about nothing in his case. Make of it what they 
will, the plain endeavour to paint black with soot, was 
in the case of this officer's perturbation too visible. 
" Faugh ! " as Hamlet says. 

Yours, &c. 


The exhibition of Lieutenant Hownam was not much 
better than that of Flynn ; I could discover nothing, 
however, in what he said, that in the slightest degree 
indicated prevarication ; but he was much embarrassed 
occasionally, not alwaj^. One of his answers was capital, 
and must have been felt as a just reproof by the faig- 
wigged devil who tormented him. The devil very 

Digitized by 



knowingly asked about the Princess walking arm in arm 
with Bergami, pawkilie ; implying it was very naughty 
so to do. But the sailor said, she did not until after he 
had been promoted to the rank of chamberlain, or to 
dine with her ; thereby showing, that after he had dined 
at her table, there could be no impropriety in her walking 
with him. Sometimes, really, a sailor may be too many 
for a devil of a lawyer. 

Hownam was exantiined at great length, and as to many 
points, but it does not seem to me, that much of import- 
ance was elicited ; nothing certainly capable of a guilty 
construction, except by a very foul imagination. He 
did, however, prove that there were indiscretions, as to 
demeanour, frequently committed by the Princess ; and 
these, I suspect, are not difficult of being sufficiently 
proved. Altogether, the evidence of Hownam was longer 
and more agreeable than that of the greater niunber of 
witnesses : — ^what I mean by agreeable is, that it was of 
a more exoterick character. It is of a kind that you can 
very well understand from the printed papers, without 
a comment. At times Hownam was firm and self- 
collected : keep this in mind, I say, at times. 

Granville Sharp, who was next called, only proved 
that an alleged indecent Moorish dance, was not so. It 
should, however, be recollected, that he spoke of dances 
he has seen in India.- Now, there are many kinds of 
Moorish dances, and some of them, which I have my- 
self seen to the east of Italy, that are not so comely as 
the attitude in which penitents say their prayers. Mr. 
Sharp's testimony goes for nothing, with me. 

The evidence of Guzziare, who succeeded, was very 
impressive. He proves that Ragazzoni could not have 
seen, from where he said he stood, the sight which he 
pretends to have witnessed. 

During the exantiination of Guzziare a remarkable 
disclosure took place. It appeared that Rastelli, or 

Digitized by 



Rascelli, whose appearance at the house was not worship- 
ful, had left the country — I do not say, sent out of it — 
no, not I — ^how indeed could I know this fact ? There 
was, for a season, consternation in the House. 

Rastelli had been examined, as I formerly stated ; 
but, in consequence of something which the witness 
Guzziare said, it was resolved to sift him further. When, 
however, he was required, it appeared that he had quitted 
the kingdom, on the pretence of being wanted in Milan, 
by some relations ; at least, I could not conjure a more 
satisfactory reason for his flighi. 

Every non-professional mind must, I think, have then 
expected that her Majesty's Attorney General would 
have htu-led his brief at the wig of the Lord Chancellor, 
and abandoned the Government to the condemnation 
of posterity. I freely confess, that for a time I partook 
of this feeling, when the counsel for the Queen retired to 
consult about what they ought to do. 

More temperate reflections, during their absence, 
allayed my terrors. I reflected that when an accused 
person submits to a judicial process, it implies decidedly 
something unfavourable, to change, in any stage of the 
investigation, the severity of the pre-determined course, 
whatever the incident may be that may occasion a change. 
It would, no doubt, have been a fine jeu de theatre^ had 
Brougham dashed the stoor o* flour out of the lion-visaged, 
mane-like upper work of Eldon. But he judged more 
wisely in not doing it. He evinced thereby his confidence 
in the Queen's innocence. I refer you, however, to the 
printed account of the affair, and to the results of the 
examination of Mr. Powell ; for I may not have thought 
well or wisely of the apparent transaction, because some 
imp fastened his claws in my mind, and whispered, in 
the hearing of my understanding, something like evasion 
or connivance. 

I frankly confess that I would be, I am certain, a most 
unsafe witness in any case in which the judgment might 

Digitized by 


int. UlAKY UF A i-AliY-lN-WAlTlNC* 457 

be aifected by the feelings ; especially if the imagination 
arranged the unbom of posterity, in tier behind tier, to 
the limit and circumference of time, as spectators around 
me. When Brougham came back from his consultation 
with Denman, and annotmced that they had resolved to 
persevere in the process, the tears rushed into my eyes, 
I know not wherefore, and my heart sweUed in my bosom 
to the sifle of thrice three hearts. 

I think, nevertheless, that the counsel did right ; for 
if Rastelli was spirited away, the reputation of the Queen 
would, in the end, be served by it. Nothing could prevent 
the surmises which the public would make on so extra- 
ordinary a transaction, as that one who was instrumental 
in beating up for the most improbable of the witnesses, 
should have been allowed to leave the kingdom during 
the trial. It is true that Lord Liverpool denied the 
spiriting, and even acceded to relax somewhat in the rules 
of exantiination. But this thing should not have happened ; 
for, as men are sometimes guilty of offences, there was 
nothing in the absence of Rastelli to prevent suspicion 
from arising. No ; men wiU say that, being out of the 
way, advantage was taken of that circumstance ; probably 
an advantage contemplated. 

This was one, and a great one, of those scenes which 
I anticipated to behold, when I resolved to be as often 
as possible present at the trial. It wiU not be easy to 
find persons who will entirely believe that Rastelli was 
not spirited away, though not by Lord liverpool ; and 
a mystery will, in consequence, for ever hang upon the 
proceedings. This, however, is as it should be, perhaps. 
State machinations would lose all their interest, if they 
were ever transacted with day-light. Who would indeed 
read history, but for the crimes of cabinets ? The plate 
of earth and salt on the bosom of a corpse, in a Scottish 
cottage, is not a more emphatic monitor of death than 
mystery is of regal iniquity. 

Yours, &c. 

Digitized by 




After the consternation had subsided about the scam- 
pavia Rastelli, the examination of other witnesses was 
resumed, but with no very decisive effect ; making, 
however, still for the Queen. 

One Pomi deposed that Rastelli had offered him some 
money ; but not in so distinct a manner as some others, 
as you will see, have sworn to the same fact. It would 
appear that Rastelli had intimated, in a way plain enough, 
that it was persons who would give evidence against 
Bergami and the Queen, that he was in search of. Pomi 
said nothing against the Queen ; but he showed that it 
was really expedient Rastelli should not then be forth- 
coming in London. 

The examination of Pomarti, the confidential clerk to 
the advocate Codazzio, respecting his nefarious intercourse 
with Vilmarcati, deserves particular attention ; not merely 
on account of the light it throws on the disreputable spirit 
of the proceedings against the Queen, but as a scene from 
a drama — a drama of life. It could not be in human 
nature, that a man would have made such contrite confes- 
sions as Pomarti did make, had he not felt in his bosom 
the gnawings of the worm that never dies. I have seldom 
heard ansrthing more touchingly affecting than the tones 
of penitence with which he acknowledged his sense of 
error, and the pathetic indignation with which memory 
reminded him of Col. Brown. I thought not at all of the 
Queen's case, but only of his consciousness of having 
acted an unworthy part in giving up, for money, papers 
with which he was confidentially trusted. The result 
of what he said produced on me a most unfavourable 
impression, both as to Col. Brown and Vilmarcati. 

I may remark in passing, that Pomi was, after the 
penitent, re-examined, and brought out an account of 
a tobacconist, one Rezenti, who had often annoyed him 

Digitized by 



about the Princess and Beigami. But I cannot see why 
he was examined ; for all that passes between him and 
the tobacconist was concerning hearsays, which that 
person jibed him with. 

A Signor Maoni next swore to going to Vilmarcati with 
one Zangla, and that Zangla showed him a handful of 
napoleons, which he then received from Vilmarcati. But 
why was Maoni called ? for it did not appear that Zangla 
had received the money for any purpose whatever. Such 
evidence can do no good. ' It is neither bane nor antidote. 

Ditto may be said of what a Colonel O'Brien stated. 

Ditto, also of what a boatman on the Lake of Como 

The evidence of the Chevalier Vassalli, which came 
next, indicated that there could not be many more 
witnesses to be examined. It was of that kind which 
would have been deemed important, had the evidence 
for the prosecution not been of such a description that 
truth had not the power to refute or contradict it. I 
thought it gentlemanly, however. 

To the chevalier succeeded a milliner of the name 
of Martini, a clever managing sort of a person, who 
could teU nothing but that she once grievously offended 
my cMre amie Dumont, by chatting to her of the re- 
ports which she had heard respecting the conduct of the 
Princess of Wales and Bergami. 

Just as she left the bar, I was obliged to leave the 
House, feeling myself much indisposed, and in need of 
fresh air. A return of the same causes compels me to 
conclude abruptly. 

Yours, &c. 


I have been so unwell since my last, that every other 
consideration was obliged to be given up for self. Truly 
sickness makes us all egotists. 

Digitized by 



It was late in the debate before I felt myself in a 
condition to resume my feli obligations to attend the 
close of the Queen's odious persecution. I wiU ever apply 
that epithet to it, and even a stronger, if it were fitter ; 
for it was, in my opinion, as unnecessary as it was 
impolitic, and as offensive to every public sentiment, 
as it was absolutely useless. Did the King and Liver- 
pool and Co. foi^et that the people have sympathies, 
and that they could not but feel that their honour, the 
national honour, were tarnished, by making the highest 
tribunal in the empire a tool to gratify individual malig- 
nity, and an aversion inspired by conscious neglect and 
ill usage ? 

But, although I could only attend at intervak to this 
shame to England of the nineteenth century, I was in at 
the death, — no : rather at the close of the catastrophe. 

No occurrence, where I was only a spectator, ever 
affected me so much : even the finest displa3rs of Mrs. 
Siddons in all the pomp and prodigality of her Lady 
Macbeth, was as vulgar bacon to this acidiilous ambrosia ; 
— convincing me that there is ever a superiority in Nature 
which art cannot attain ; however like to the aroma of 
genius, but transcendantly finer. 

I shall never forget what was my emotion wheli it was 
announced to me that the Bill of Pains and Penalties 
was to be abandoned. I was walking towards the west 
end of the long corridor of the House of Lords, wrapt in 
reverie, when one of the door-keepers touched me on the 
shoulder, and told me the news. I turned instantly to 
go back into the House, when I met the Qtieen coming 
out alone from her waiting-room, preceded by an usher. 
She had been there tmknown to me. I stopped in- 
voluntarily ; I could not indeed proceed, for she had 
a " daized *' look, more tragical than consternation* She 
passed me ; the usher pushed open the folding doors of 
the great stair-case ; she began to descend, and I foUowod, 

Digitized by 


Frotti a lithograph by Alexander B'.aikley reproduced by permission of the Artist's 


Digitized by 



instinctively, two or three stepe behind her. She was 
evidently all shuddering, and she took hold of the bannister, 
pausing for a moment. Oh ! that sudden clutch with 
which she caught the railing ! it was as if her hand had 
been a skinless heart. Never say again to me that any 
actor can feel like a principal. It was a visible manifesta- 
tion of unspeakable grief — an echoing of the voice of the 

Four or five persons came in from below, before she 
reached the bottom of the stairs. I think Alderman 
Wood was one of them ; but I was in indespribable con- 
fusion ; the great globe itself was shaking under me. I 
rushed past, and out into the hastily assembling crowd. 
The pressure was as in the valley of Jehoshaphat that 
shall be. I knew not where I was, but in a moment a 
shouting in the balcony above, on which a number of 
gentlemen from the interior of the House were gathering, 
roused me. The multitude then began to cheer ; but 
at first there was a kind of stupor. The S37mpathy, how- 
ever, soon became general, and, winged by the voice, 
soon spread up the street. Every one instantly, between 
CharingTCross and Whitehall, turned and came rushing 
down, filling Old and New Palace Yards, as if a deluge 
was unsluiced. 

The generous exultation and hurry of the people were 
beyond all description : it was as a conflagration of hearts. 
But before I had struggled to St. Margaret's, I was seized 
with hoarseness and rage. The Queen^of the greatest of 
all the nations was allowed to escape from jeopardy, with 
as little public deference, save the voluntary huzzahs of 
the people, as the vilest delinquent from a police office. 
Verily, verily, how little wisdom must, in truth, suffice 
for statesmen ! She was virtually exonerated, and the 
ministers had no right to show that they were disap- 
pointed in their endeavours to pander to the antihuman 
passions of the King. It was, indeed, an occasion for 

Digitized by 



them to be hiimbk, and they would have acted beoomin^y 
had they come forth with staves in their hands, and meal 
forks hanging from their necks, singing, in chorus, ^* the 
overcome " of the old Scottish ditty, — 

Och hone, Och hone, wed may we moan. 
For we are but puir bodies. 

Yours, &c. 

Digitized by 



Digitized by 


Digitized by 



Dear [ ], — I received your letter by Mr. Erskine 

yesterday, and was not long in resolving to answer it. 

I do most thoroughly agree with you, that nothing 
could be . more despicable than the spirit which the 
Government manifested on the occasion of poor Queen 
Caroline's funeral : it was not even so respectable as to 
be pitiful. Were it for no other cause than the indigna- 
tion I cherish, I would lend all the aid I can to your design. 
But the nation has been insulted, and it becomes abso- 
lutely a patriotic duty to show, in every instance where 
it can be shown, that the vile conduct of the State was 
regarded as it should have been by the people ; that is, 
as an abomination to their habitual magnanimity. But 
while I do, even with alacrity, undertake to tell you all 
that I have heard, known, and seen, of Queen Caroline, 
the whole is not much ; and the utmost you may be able 
to make of it is, that along with the reports of your other 
friends, something consistent may be combined, which 
will serve to illustrate some historical statement. Be 
assured it is a story that will be revived : though, for a 
time, perhaps an age, men may be disposed to wish it 
could be forgotten, merely because it is " a fiUhy bargain.*^ 
It is a more mj^terious affair than even that of Mrs. 
Anne Bullen, as she is called, and will excite hereafter a 
corresponding degree of interest. Mankind are naturally, 
in the case of that gipsy, not very desirous of hearing a 
great deal. She is canonized as a protestant martyr, and 

u 465 s G 

Digitized by 



the merits of her guilt axe seldom Jivestigated» the subject 
is so odious. But the history of the unhappy Caroline 
is not so black in the accusation, and therefore will, to 
a certainty, be more freely scrutinized. 

If I rightly understand you, you propose to collect 
among your different friends some account of what each 
may happen to know, or to have heard from authentic 
sources, of the character and story of the king^s late wife. 
If you persevere in this notion, you will undoubtedly in 
time do something for the serious consideration of pos- 
terity, for whom all authors, you know, write ; but I fear 
you win not find many correspondents who will do what 
you desire. However that may be, I will do my best, and 
** nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." 

But let me give you a caution. Do not assume either 
her guilt or innocence. If you do, you will insensibly 
tinge facts with your own opinion ; and this is the very 
thing you should anxiously avoid. Guilt, as our own 
cautious coimtrymen say, was not proven ; nor does it 
appear that she was, as Perceval said, '^ as pure as un- 
sunned snow.** You can therefore only expect to show 
that she subjected herself to su^idon, and was obliged 
to endure its maUce, suffering io consequence a degree of 
persecution, arising from that bias of human nature which 
renders suspicion greedy of evidence of guilt. But if you 
do not allow that she justified suspicion, either by levity or 
from resentment, you will find yourself in perplexity. 

In the "delicate Investigation'* she was exonerated 
from guilt, by afiBxing on her the chaige of "innocent 
levity ** ; but there seems to have been no Solomoa in 
authority who thought of natural feeling, at any period 
of her distressing case. She may have exposed herself to 
suspicion merely from a sense of wrongs and yet have legally 
been innocent. No one, of all who were zir^yeA to judge i 
h^, seems to have thought that she could be actuated by 
revenge ; and yet what provocation as a woman, as a 


Digitized by 



lady, and as a queeiii had she not, to set machinations at 
defuuice, and to tonnent those wbo^thiisted for her ruin ? 

I do seriously and sincerely think that her natural 
character was such, that she may have so conducted 
herself as to draw down on her the disgrace which weak 
inconsiderate men tried to ascribe to another sort of vice. 
I thdak of poor human nature, and do say, she had great 

From thi» you will miderstand in what manner I am 
likely to offer you my remembrances ; and, besides, you 
must allow me to ramble as I recollect ; bearing in mind 
that I am decidedly of opinion that she acted as she is 
proven to have done, merely from resentment, to retaliate 
on exasperating suspicion.* This view of her conduct 
has not, that I am aware of, been taken before. If it 
will serve you, I shall proceed with my recollections. 
Let me know soon, and believe me 

Yours truly, &c. 


Dear [ ], — I received yours of the 4th instant last 

Friday, but being at the time on the point of leaving town 
for a few days, I did not then particularly attend to it, 
in fact could not. 

I am glad you have explained your design, as it enables 
me to steer a clear course. I had imagined you intended 
the letters to illustrate some historical statement ; but 
since yoti propose to make only a collection of letters, I 
see what ought to be my bearing more distinctly. It is, 
however, necessary to explain more fully what I meant 
by implying that the Queen exposed herself to suspicions 
purposely, in allowing her resentment to master her 

* This view of her conduct (in many instances of it at least) was 
known by those about her person to have been perfectly tme :— 4he 
had a childishly wicked pleasure in making people think worse of 
her than she deserved. [Original note.] 

Digitized by 



delicacy. I think it was quite natural to her sort of 
character to do so ; but it has not my approbation^ though 
I can understand how her injuries and wrongs might 
influence her. I judge of her disposition by many inci- 
dental circumstances, which will be gradually adverted 
to, perhaps developed, as I proceed. 

It is a curious trait of our age, that natural character 
is disregarded, and individuals estimated by the acknow- 
ledged general qualities of the species. The Queen was 
too uniformly considered as a mere woman ; she ought, 
from the first, to have been regarded as a princess bom ; 
habituated, in consequence, to the most deferential 
treatment ; and, above all, as endowed with personal 
peculiarities of spirit and temper not common. Much 
of the derogatory treatment she sustained arose, I con- 
ceive, from this omission. 

I shall therefore place in view my persuasion of what I 
conceive to have been her natural character, rather 
than what appears to have been her treatment, and how 
it may have generated the resentment with which I 
think she was actuated. Of course, all that may have 
affected my notion of the woman, has been derived 
from hearsay ; much also of what she may have expe- 
rienced as a princess is inference ; but I ought to mention 
that I did attend her trial two-and-twenty days, and that, 
as far as I can depend on m3^self , what I saw of her at 
that time, justifies me in thinking, poor creature I that 
she was much misunderstood. There may have been 
a spicing of revenge in her conduct ; but assuredly, 
that is, in my opinion, there was much of prank and 
jocularity in her indiscretion. 

Now what I am going to tell, is not for the scrupulous 
ears of your immaculate, worthy, straitlaced aunt Miss 
Deborah* It respects the Queen's conduct prior to her 
marriage ; and my informant is the once noted Mrs. 
Mary Anne Clarke, whose informant, as she said, was 

Digitized by 



the Duke of York. You are aware how I wheedled her 
to show me the notes she had prepared for her own 
memoirs. In consenting to do so, she happened to men- 
tion that the old King Geoige III. had ordered a set 
of jewels for the Princess, and that the Duke, when they 
were ready, being to take them to Windsor, brought the 
casket on the Saturday before, to Mrs. Garke. Nothing 
less, in consequence, would serve the chire amiey than to 
go to the Opera, decked in the borrowed plumes ; and she 
actually did wear the diamonds there that night. This 
led her to speak of many other things which His Royal 
Highness told her of the Princess, and how it was at one 
time proposed he should marry her ; and for that purpose 
he went previously to see how the land lay at the court 
of Brunswick ; the result of which was that he did not 
like the Princess, in many things he heard of her, deeming 
her ways not likely to take in England. I will not say 
that I believed all to have been true which Mrs. Clarke 
told me ; for I did not ; but, had there not been some- 
thing coarsish in the impression made on the Duke, 
and which may have led him to speak of the Princess 
disparagingly, Mrs. Garke would not have said to me 
what she did ; for her opinion of the Princess of Wales 
was on the whole kindly ; indeed she was not deficient 
in that quality, and generally expressed herself respecting 
even the Dudiess of York, with much more consideration 
than might d priori have been expected. However, 
what I mean to deduce from what she said is, that the 
Princess of Wales, before her marriage, was hoydenish 
and addicted to practical jokes, and not at all '* adorable '' 
in the eyes of the Duke, whom by the way she always 

spoke of, (that is, Mrs. C[ ] said) as naturally subject 

to mauvaise honte. 

My next will give you more reason to suspect that Queen 
Caroline was not naturally very discreet. 

Believe me truly, &c. 

Digitized by 

^y Google 


N.B. This story of lira. Clarke reminds me of one of 
her sarcasms on tibe same occasion. I inquired what had 
become of Colonel Wardle — "Oh, the wretch," cried 
she, " he has taken to selling milk about TuQbridge 1 "-— 
He fanned some property in that neighbourhood. 


Dear [ ], — It is to the conduct of Queen Caroline 

subsequent to her arrival in this country, that your 
attention should be directed, and I can state some early 
circumstances worthy of being recorded. A friend of 
mine, who described the incident to me himself, was 
standing in Parliament-street, when the carriage with 
her turned in from Bridge-street. It was an ill-omened 
afiair : not the slightest indication of welcome was mani- 
fested, and he was himself the very first individual who 
uncovered to her, and, with emotion at the indifference 
of the crowd, began the huzza. 

What took place at the palace before and after " the 
wedding rite," I never heard; but the Princess herself 
told a lady, who told a gentleman, who told me, what 
passed between St. James's and Carlton House, and I 
must say it did make a favourable impression upon me. 
There was some shouting from the mob when the carriage 
came out of the palace, and the first words which the 
Prince said to his bride, referring to that drcumstance, 
were well enough — to the effect that "many were in^ 
tcrested in their happiness '' ; — and he took her band. 
Something had disappointed her in the reception, and she, 
being resolved to maintain her dignity, pettishly with^ 
drew her hand ; at which the Prince took the pd^ and 
the remainder of the passage to his residence was suUenly 

The comment I would make on this incident is, that 
it tends to verify the Du}ce of Yoyk^s character of the 

Digitized by 



Princess to Mrs. Clarke ; and the conduct of the Prince 
of Wales was in unison with his known pecoliarity through 
life. He was ever too important to himself, saying finer 
things than his feelings prompted. Supposing the con- 
duct of the Princess was as represented, he ought not 
as a man, nor as a public character, to have allowed 
** his heart to grow cold " at such a trifle. There is no 
doubt, however, that he was disappointed, and many 
stories are in circulation, or rather were, all tending 
to show that there was a general belief, from the very 
wedding, that the marriage was unblest. 

What I have now to tell confirms this : a gentleman, 
who has since been a member of the present King's 
government (William's), told me that a friend of his, 
whose bedroom overlooked Carlton Gardens, on retiring 
to bed at a late hour, saw the Prince in the garden, walk- 
ing in the moonlight, in the greatest agitation — he even 
said *^ tearing his hair '* ; and this alleged fact certainly 
is in unison with the . . . that tainted the mind of the 

The inference from it no doubt is to awaken commisera- 
tion for the Prince. But when his general character is 
considered, I^am not sure but it may tend to diminish 
sympathy ; at all events, it does not say much for the 
tact of the Princess, especially when taken in connexion 
with her notions of preserving dignity, as evinced in the 
carriage scene. 

It is clear that a mutual distrust early arose between 
the parties — a proof that there may have been an egotis- 
tical fastidiousness on the one side, and a want of that 
sentiment which is the basis, not of happiness but of 
propriety, on the other. Neither man nor woman seem 
to have considered enough that they were called to act 
as Prince and Princess. 

I Of the thousand and one rumours which preceded the 
retirement of the Princess of Wales to Blackheath, some 

Digitized by 



of your other correspondents will give 3^u a better account 
than I can ; but I have one personal incident to relate, 
which is curious. 

An old lady from the country of a truly Shakspeaxian 
discernment of character, and who was famed for her 
perspicuity among all her circle, requested me to go with 
her to see the Princess, in the church of Greenwich. 
We were, however, rather late, the service having com- 
menced ; but as our errand was to see Her Roj^ Highness, 
we filled up the time by strolling in the Park, and were 
back to see the Princess pass to her carriage. I was 
anxious to hear what my companion thought of her, 
knowing the singular talent of the old lady ; and I 
remember very distinctly her sa3dng to me, with an 
inflection of sadness, ^' Poor woman I she^s endeavouring 
to be a ladyj** Many years after, when Mrs. Clarke told 
me of the Princess's hoydenishness, I recollected this 
opinion ; and I remembered it with sorrow, convinced 
of its justness, even to the day I followed her down the 
great stairs of the House of Lords, when the impolitic 
Bill of Pains and Penalties was abandoned. Yet, surely, 
there is no moral crime in the manifestation of natural 
character, if that can be said not to be an offence, which 
is^apt'to be felt as disagreeable. 

BeUeve me truly yours, &c. 


Dear [ ], — I hope you are sufficiently aware that I 

have not undertaken to give you a connected seriatim 
narrative of Queen Caroline's intromissions, as some of 
your acquaintance in Edinbuigh would say, avant her 
domicile t and status within this realm; and, therefore, 
I intend ^to proceed with my random recollections, in 
the same sdoUo manner as I have begun. This preface 
is, perhaps, necessary, because I find myself obliged to 

Digitized by 



allude to a circumstance, which at one time caused 
** much ado^^ but it turned out to be " about nothing.^* 
It must, however, be mentioned, and the sooner I have 
done with it, the better. I mean that cock-and-a-buU 
story about Billy Austin, which, during the *^ delicate 
Investigation,^^ occasioned much head shaking, and the 
loss of so much hair-powder to many a big wig. 

The incident is, however, in one point of view, exceed- 
ingly affecting and pathetic. Deprived of the society of 
her own daughter, before any criminality had been 
imputed, and being of a maternal disposition, the Princess 
found some alleviation to her loneliness, in the care and 
superintendance of another's child. "This is the very 
head and front of her offending," in that matter, " and 
no more." But this child was absolutely, with many 
nods and winks of the " Burleighs " of the time, suspected 
to be, I shall not say what ; you understand. No mother, 
however, could be seemingly fonder of her own son, than 
the Princess was of this poor orphan. She was, indeed, 
truly a kind-hearted creature, to be so like a real mother 
to Billy Austin ; and it was with sore hearts that men, 
whose shoulders were deemed Atlantean enough to bear 
the weight of an empire, should have been obliged to 
lift aside the cloak of charity, in expectation of seeing 
that it covered a multitude of sins ! Moreover, she 
herself used to say, caressing him, (keep in mind my 
notion of her natural character) that the darling Billy 
would one day make a name in Westminster Hall ; 
whether, however, as a Barrister, or as an Heir Presump- 
tive, was not intimated ; but no one thought she could 
mean the former, while every sagacious person could 
not but discern that her mind was clearly running on 
the latter ! 

Could it be conceived, i priori, that such biped asses 
were in existence upon the earth, as to regard this simple 
afiair as a state mystery, full of '* Queen's stratagems 

Digitized by 



and spirits ? '* Yet there were. Bat the feet is as I 
have stated it. Billy Austin was well known to be the 
son of a housekeeper to a lady that Uved in the Paiagon, 
in the Kent Road. The lady was nearly related to a 
friend of mine, with vfbom I happened to be dining^ 
on the Sunday after Billy returned from abroad, then a 
lad ; and it was mentioned as a good trait in his aJSec- 
tions, that very soon after his arrival, he had gone to see 
his true mother. This gave rise to a general conversation 
about the circumstances of ^^ihe deUcate InvesHgaUonJ** 
There never had been any mystery about him as a child, 
except in the conglomerated intellects of statesmen, and 
in the " filthy *' imaginations of the detractors to i^om 
they gave heed. The truth, at any time, might have 
been ascertained by a footman. My friend Uved, imme- 
diately as prior inhabitant, in the house at Sydenham 
Common, which Lady Charlotte Campbell at one time 

I was obliged to notice this " mare's nest," because it 
could not but be noticed ; it merits, however, special 
consideration in two points of view. Could it have been 
imagined, by any person sound and sober, that such air 
as our country-folks call ^* Bonny wee naeihing with a 
whistle a the enC o'/," could have been deemed a fit subject 
of inquiry, or that it would ever have been made a topic 
of grave report ? It may have been required of the 
investigators, to ascertain the fact of the child's birth ; 
but it ought not to'have made " each particular hair " 
on their wigs to uncurl itself, and '^ to stand on end, like 
quills upon the fretful porcupine." The conduct of the 
Princess in the affair was quite natural and amiable. 
But there are persons, both in high and low life, who 
have a prone delight to let their fancies riot with thoughts 
that reason would strangle. The Princess may have 
been not very fastidious ; but all agree that she wasYa 
parental*hearted woman ; that she had particular 

Digitized by 



enjoyment in nursing children^ and was daiied the 
gratification of embracing her own. To be sure, tickling 
an innocent little one may not be so dignified as holding 
conclave with tailors about the cut of coats ; but it is 
quite as important a duty in a Prince. In fact, the 
story about Billy Austin is erf a piece with the whole of 
this wretched case, which may be reduced to a syllogism, 

All women may err. 

The Princess of Wales was a woman ; 

The Princess of Wales may have erred. 

Yours truly, &c. 


Dear [ % — ^You mistake me : I do not say the 

Princess may notThave given^'cause, where there was no 
disposition to put a favourable construction on her 
demeanour^ to suspect the purity of her life ; but I do 
think and say too, she was that sort of person likely to 
have resented the imputation of guilt, by acting in such 
a manner as to suggest notions of her having been guilty. 
This, to your Presb3rterian notions, will seem almost 
as bad as if she had been really a criminal ; nor do I ex- 
tenuate the impropriety. But there are many persons, who 
think themselves very rigidly righteous, who do and say 
things that would have made Qeopatra blush. Nothing, 
indeed, can be less disputable than that many good sort 
of people think themselves innocent, because they have 
not sinned in the eye of the law. I have known many 
such simple characters allow themselves to give verbal 
utterance to imaginations that would be incredible among 
the dissolute ; and when you go to others^ alias auld 
Reekie, for the winter, observe and be amazed. Decent 
folk often believe, that when they clothe their bare, 

Digitized by 



naked bones in debonair phraseology, they are themselves 
as innocent as Adam and Eve before the fall. If innocent, 
they are as stupid as ostriches ; and I don't doubt the 
Princess said many a strange thing in joke. For example, 
one day when she had a party dining with her, at Ken- 
sington Palace, she noticed the eyes of some of her guests 
attracted to a bilious-looking picture of a child, and 
said, '' // Rodjaify de poe^, were to make a shild, it would 
be like dot shUdJ*^ Now, would anybody have said such 
a thing in a mixed company, and while the servants 
were present ? and yet there was no immorality in it. 

Excuse this short note, but Erskine returns to Scotland 
to-morrow, and I could not let him go without saying 
somthing of what I apprehend was the delinquency of 
the Princess. Alwaj^ bear in mind, that, except what I 
heard during the trial, all I have to tell is second-handed. 
The truth is, that the accusations not having been proven^ 
she ought to have been considered by the nation innocent, 
as a Queen ; though, as Mrs. Guelph, she may not have- 
been the^purest of all married women. 

Yours, &c- 


Digitized by 



Abbrcorn, Lord, i 191 ; ii. 157- 

Aberdeen, Lord, ii. 282 
Abington, Lady, i. 60 
Achmuty, Sir Samuel, ii. 210 
Aidy, Captain, i. 322-25 
Ailesburv, Lady, i. 113 
Albemane, Earl of, i xi-zii ; ii. 9 n. 
Allen, Colonel, i. 149 
Amelia, Princess, i. lo-ii ; ii. 

Andreossi, Major, i. 382-83 
Angerstein, J. J., i. 156, 161, 184, 

Angoul^me, Dnc de, i. 379, 397 
An^uUme, Duchesse, i. 62, 73, 265 ; 

Aime, Archduche88[GrandDuche8s ?], 

i. 275-76 
A nspacb'Bairenth, Hifargravine of, i. 

71, I54«.. 403; ii. 98 
Apponi, Mme., ii. 358 
Apreece, Mrs. — see Lady Davy 
Apsley, Lord, i. 55 
Arbntlmot, Mr., i. 62, 107-108, 189 ; 

ii. 287, 345 
Argyll, John, Duke of, i. v; ii 

Artois, Comte d', i. 62 ft., 274 n, ; 

ii. 90 
Arzaxotti, M., i. 3(75-78 
Ashlev, Lady Barbara, i. 71 ; ii. 90 
Auckland, Lord, ii. 279 
Austin, William (Willikin}, i. vii, 

25, 184-85, 187, 209, 275, 360. 

380; ii. 231, 245, 359, 437 «.. 


Badbn, Grand Duke of, ii. 107 n. 
Baden, Marie, Princess of, i. 9 ft. 
BaUlie, Dr., ii. 16 
Barbauld, Mrs., ii. 266-68 

Barnard, Lady Anne, ii. 1 1, 294 
Barnard, Mr. S. L., ii. 286 
Barnard, Sir A., ii. 211 
Bauer, Karoline, i. xi. 100 n. ; ii. 

106 n. 
Bayly, Lady Sarah, ii. 329-30, 336 
Beauclerc, Mr., ii 293 
Beauclerc, Mrs., i 190 
Beaufort, Duchess of, i. 96 
Beaufort, Duke of , L 3 
Bedford, Duchess of, i. 67 
Bedford, Duke of, i. 129 
Belleearde, Mar6chal, i. 285, 299, 
„3?0; ii. 30 
Bellingham, Mr., i. 92-93 
Belmonte, Princess, i. 308 
Bennet, Mr., i. 136, 207, 212 
Bentinck, Lady Charles, ii. 40 
Bentinck, Lady William, i. 352, 

355-56. 376. 378-79 
Bentinck. Lord. i. 333, 371, 379, 

381-82, 390 ; ii. 1, 137. 352 
Bergami. Bartolomeo, i. viii. 350 n. ; 

ii. 29 «., 107 «., 129 ft.. 4ish'20, 

422-25, 426-29. 431, 437-38. 440. 

444-46. 448-49. 450. 453. 458-59 
Bergami, Victorine, ii. 427 
Bemadotte, Gen., i. 64, 175 
Bern, Due de, ii 90 
Berry, Miss, i v, 9, 28, 179, 199, 

208 ; ii 306 
Bertrand, Mme., i. 323 
Beverley, Lord, ii. 133 
Bianchi, M., ii. 438 
Bingham, Lady Elizabeth, i. 65-67, 

71. 109; ii. 135. 333.352- 
Bmnmg, Lord, u. 352 
Biron. Princess, i. 389 
Blacas, Due de. ii. 9, 10 
Blackburn, Miss, ii. 339 
Blair, Robert, Lord President, ii 96- 



Digitized by 




Blake, Wm., iL ^14 

Blant3rre, Lady, ii 207-I 

BLoomfleld, Loid, L 85 

Boignep Mme. de, L 43 n„ 307 «., 

343 n., 355 
)lton, Mr., 1. 1 14 

Bo] . 

Bonar, Thompson, L 153 
Booth, Miss, L 7 
Bordeaux, Due de, ii 136 
Boighese, Princess, i. 326 ; ii. 253 
Bossi, Signor, ii. 230 
Boswell, James, ii 120 
Bourke, Colonel. L 334, 336, 376 
Bowes, BIr., L 57 
Bracdano, Duchess of, ii. 383 
Bradford, Lord, i. 17, 310, 354; ii. 

Brandon, Mr., L 214 
Brennan, the Highwayman, ii. 112 
Briggs, Captain, ii. 429 
Brignole, Mme., L 415 
Broglie, Due de, ii. 370, 352 
Brook, Lord, L 99 
Broome, Lady Louisa, iL 338 
Brougham, Mr. (Lord), L 27, iii, 

114. 117, 121-23. i27-a8. 144- 

45, 148, 200, 217, 225, 232, 236 f 

ii. 53-53. 299-301. 382. 405. 426, 

439. 440 
Brown, Col., L 370 ; iL458 
Bruce, Crawford, 1. 75 ; Ii. 285 ^q, 
Brunswick, Duchess of, i. 2, 22, 

42, 112-113, 142 n., 146, 158, 

404; ii. 373. 381. 392 
Brunswick, Duke of, L 9, 16, 22, 

45, 105, 147, 151. 157. 166-69, 

404;. 11.128-9,373 ^^ , 
Brunswick, Prmce Charles and 

Prince William, L 400 
Brunton, Mrs., ii. 122 n. 
Bucdeuch, Duchess of, ii. loi, 333 
Bucklejr, Lady Georgiana, iL 8 8 
Buezo, ii 438 
Buller, Miss, ii. 89 
Burdett, Lady, i. 340 
Buonaparte, Napoleon, i 7, 145, 175, 

180-81, 188-89, 193-95. 259, 261, 

314-28, 333-35. 341. 399 ; "• 30i. 

Burghersh, Lady, i. 108 n. 
Burdett, Sir Francis, i. 19 ; ii. 220, 

325. 376 . 
Bumey, Dr., 1. 209, 223 
BurreU, Peter, i 57 
Burrell, W., i 381 

Bury, Rev. Edward John, L iz, 

X, 108 n, 
Bute, Lady, ii. 359 
Butler, Lady Eleanor, ii 307 
Byng, G., i 150 
Byron, Lord, i 109, 125, 399; ii 

103, 108, 206, 215, 280, 287, 293, 

29«» 306, 335. 343. 359-60, 376, 


Cadogan, BCrs., ii 358 

Call, Lady Louisa, i 215 

Call, Sir W.,i 215 

Cambridge, Duke oi^h. 126 

Campbell, Lady Charlotte, after- 
wards Bury, 1. v-xiii, 12 «., 51. 
loi n., 107-108, 112, 206, 224, 
235, 240, 244 n. 273, 28s «.. 
299 w., 304-306. 307 «•. 3". 
329. 331. 336-37. J42-143. 346- 
52. 355-57. 359. 362, 373. 375- 
76, 386 ; u. 29, 30, 129, 139, 316 ; 
her family, i ix n., 346 

Campbell, Hector, ii 414-15 

Campbell, John, of Shawfidd, L vi 

Campbell, Miss, i 341 

Campbell, Sir Neil, i 322-29 

Campbell, Thomas, the Poet, i 
116-117, 121, 187, 371 ; ii 294 

Campbell, Walter, of Shawfield, L vi 

Canning, Miss, i 27 

Canning, Mr., i 17, 100, 230-31, 
269,402; ii 199, 217 

Cannizzaro, Duchess of, ii. 365 

Canova, ii. 105 

Caramanion, Princess, i. 308 

Carignano, Prince, i 414 

Carmichael, Lady, ii loi 

Carnarvon, Lady, ii. 293 

Caroline, Princess of wales (after- 
wards Queen CarolineL i viii, 
2-5. 9-30. 34-41. 52-62, 64-65. 67. 
72-83, 86, 92-93. 95-142. 144- 
173, 178, 181-88, 191-92, 197» 
240, 258, 261-263, 268-69, 270, 
273-75. 279p 280-88, 285,288, 298- 
309* 32i» 330-32, 336-38, 141. 
342 w., 347, 349-60, 362-76, 
378-86. 388, 389-90. 393. 395- 
407, 416; ii. 16, 19-21, 23, 2S- 
30. 33. 40-41 » 50-54. 61-62. 74- 
76, 86-87, 89, 92. 98, 104-X05, 
106-107, 119, 128-29, 133, 137- 
39. 145-46. 159-60, 164-^, 185, 

188, 208-209, 216-292, 230-33, 

Digitized by 




Caroliiie — (cotiUmuedi 

239, 241. 344r-4d> 2S9» 26s, 271- 
76, 279-310, 3i#-r8, 324-25* 
328-29. 331-32* 334-37» 339-32. 
358-59. 362. 367-93* 397-476 

Carotti, Cs^lo, ii. 438 

Carrington, Wm., i. 275, 368; ii^ 


Casenove, Mme., i. 267 

Castlereagh» Lord, i. 64, 136, I40» 
168, 198, 215, 232-33, 261, 324; 
iL 23 

Catalani, Mme., iL 259, 280, 377 

CataneUi, Mr., i. 390 

Chalkus, Dachesse de, i. 286 

Charlemont, Lord, iL 200 

Charlotte, Queen, i. v. vi. vii. 6-7, 
II, 100, I 14-15, 126-27, 200, 
270 ; iL 6-7. 92-93. 163, 165-67, 
197. 254, 281-82, 283. 307, 343, 
349. 380-81 

Charlotte of Wales, Princess, i. vii. 
viii, xii, lo-ii, 17, 20-21, 22- 
23. 38-39. 82, 86-87, 98, 100- 
loi. III, 114-17. 119-20, 123, 
129, 145, 149, 150, 154-55. ^77- 
79, 181, 188, 192, 196-97. 203, 
207, 211, 218-19, 221-22, 226, 
261-63, 269, 301, 404-405. 408 ; 
iL 6, 17, 28, 33, 40, 80, 8 1, 89, 
104, 130, 144-53. 172, 187, 241, 
252-53.292-93. 308, 313-19. 325. 
347-49. 369. 372-75. 380, 383 

Charteris, Lady A., L 401 

Chatham, Lord, ii. 56, iii 

Chesterfield, Lord, ii. 56 

Chichester, Mrs., ii. 378 

Cholmondeley, Lord, L 23 ; ii. 63, 181 

Cholmondeley, Mr., ii. 339 

Chevalier, Monsieur, i. 259*60 

CimitelU, Prince, ii. 260 

Qancarty, Lord, iL 113 

Qanronald, Macdonald of, L 61 ; 

Clanwilliam, Lord, ii. 12 

Qarence, Duke of, L 83, 120, 129, 

178 «. ; U. 193 
Clarke, Sir A., ii. 210 
Clarke, Mrs., L 47 n, ; ii. 409, 468, 

Dement, Miss, ii. 339 
Clinton, General, iL 211 
Cochrane, Lord, i. 230 ; ii. 89 
Cdgni, Duo de, L 253 
Coigni, Mme. de« L 253, 255-56 

Coke, Lady Mary, L 2-3 ; iL333i«i| 

Coibum, Mr.» L xii 

Cole, Rev. Dr., iL 225 

Cole, Sir Lowry, ii. 15 1 

Conant, Mr., L 123 

Cond6, Prince de, L 402 

Condole, M. de, L 317-18 

Constant, M., L 267 

Constantine, Grand Duke, i 357 

Conyeis, Lady, ii. 326 

Coayngham, Lady, L 416 ; ii. 218- 
29, 222-23, 239 

Copley, Sir Joseph, ii 1 57, soo 

Corme, Mr., L 93 

CorvesL M., L 316, 338 

Cowper, Lady, i. 99, 230 

Cowper, Lord, L 129 

Cradder, Mr., L 275 

Craven, Keppell, L 28-29, 57, 71, 
79. 89-92, 106, 170-71, 189, 198, 
215-16. 228, 234-35, 240, 259, 
262, 268-69, 275, 284-^7, 300-301, 
303. 306, 309, 351, 372, 383, 396- 
97, 403, 407; iL 90, 293, 361. 

^ 372, 377 » 449. 450 

Crawford, Lady Mary Lindsay, h 

Crawfurd, John (" Fish "), L 54 

Croft, Dr., L 408 

Crofton, Miss L., iL 339 

Cumberland, Duke of, ii. 6, 90, 357 

^ 372 

Cumberland, Mr., ii. 133 

Cumming, Mr., L 267 

Curzon, Miss, iL 339 

Dacrb, Lady, ii. 198 
Dalkeith, Lord, iL 187 
Dalmatia, Due de, ii. 136 
Dalrymple, Lady, L 360 ; ii. 241 
Damer, Hon. Mrs., L 136-37, 321 

330; iL63 
Dante, Baron, ii. 443 
D'Arlingcourt, Col., i. 300 
Darmstadt, Prince George of, L 20 
Dartmouth, Lady, iL 284, 293 
Dartmouth, Lord, L 67 
Davidoflf, Mme.,L 305, 313-14 ; 333 

335. 340. 343. 379. 385. 389; i 

Davenport, Mrs., L 241 
Davy, Lady, L 41, 54, 267, 273 

ii. 65, 365 
Davy, Sir H., L 41, 42, 54, 267, 271 

273; ii. 133. i«3-84 

Digitized by 


Dawson, Mrs., L 68 

De CMoid, Lady, L 30-21, 85, 100, 

III, 1x9-20, 158 • iL 12, 187-88 
De Couicy, Admiral, L 83 
DeerhniBt, Lord, i. 69 
De la Gaide, M., i. 189 
De La Rue, M., i 356 
Delessert, M., L 260-61 
Delmar, Baion de, iL 99 n. 
Demont (Dmnont). Loaisa,li.l275 «., 
; 299, 337, 380 ; ii. 434. 437. 449" 
f 50.453.459 
De Negri, M., i. 380 
Denham, Biajor, ii 200 
Denman, Mr., ii. 52-5 j 
Denmark, Princess of, ii. 10 
D'Erfeail, M., i. 188-89 
De Ros, Lady, i. 82 
Desbrowe, Col., i. 74 
Deshays, the Dancer, i. 62 ; ii. 280 
Devonshire, Duchess of (Elizabeth), 

i. 41, 338, 341, 408 ; ii 12, 18, 

19. 30-31. 35. 40, 50. 66-67, 85. 

159. 253. 3^2, 377 
Devonshire, Duchess of (Georgiana), 

i. 338 n., 408, 410-11 ; ii. 35, 85, 

Devonshire, Duke of, i 40-41, 61- 

62, 70-71, 73, 109, 177-78, 224 

«., 338 n., 408; iL 17. 315. 333- 


on, Mr., i. 246 
Di RoUo, N.. ii. 426 
Dixon, W. Willmott, i. x «. 
Dizzi, Signor, i. 177 
Dodwell, Mrs., ii. 65 
Dole, Comtesse ( ? Oldi), ii. 436 
Donkin, Gen., ii. 211 
Dorset, Duke of, i. 35 
D'Osmont, Comtesse, L 355-56 
Douglas, Frederick, i. 199 
Douglas, Lady, L vii, 57; ii. 166, 

Douglas, Sir John, i. vii, 140, 192 ; 

ii. 166, 388-89 
Drummond, Messrs., i. 75 ; ii. 297 
Dudley, Lord, ii. 190, 194, 207 
Duff, Mrs., ii. 281 
Dunmore, Lady, i. 22 
Durazzo, M., i. 379 
Dutton, Mr., ii. 339 
D3rsart, Countess of, i. 70 n, 

Edgcumbb, Lady Caroline, i. 61, 83 
Edgeworth, Miss, iL 1 19 

Edwaidioe. L 275, 284 
Eldon, Lord, L 120, 1^8 ; ii 126 
Elizabeth, Princess, u. 283 
Englefield» Sir H., L 25, 28, 79, 17a- 

71,371; iL295 
Elphinstone, Lady, L 341 ; iL 103 
Erskine, Lord, L 85, loi ; iL 408, 

Essex, Lord. L 220 
Esterly, Miss, L 389 
Etruna, Queen of, L 286, 380. 382 
Exnu>uth, Lord, iL 241 

Fagniani, Biliss, ii. 223, 224 n. 

Falconet, Mrs., L 353 ; iL 19 

Falconniere, Mme.. L 336-37 

Farquhar, Sir Walter, L 37, 50-5 1 

Fawkener, Sir E.. L 80 n, 

Fels, Miss, L 318 

Ferrier, Miss, ii. 107, 175-78, 327 

Fesch, Cardinal, ii. 54 

Fielding. Mrs., L 1 1 3 

Fife, Lord, iL 247, 338 

Findlater, Lady, iL 392 

Finetti, witness, ii. ^38 

Fitzclarence, Capt. i. 178 n, 

Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, ii. 344 

Fitzgerald, Lord Henry, L 4, 20, 22, 

25. 27, 30, 159, 169-70, 212, 230, 

236 ; ii. 187, 221-22, 335-37 
Fitzhaiding, Mr., L 69 
Fitzherbert, Mrs., L 17, 354, 416; 

ii. 167, 223, 256 
Fitzroy, Colonel, ii. 283, 328 
Fitzroy. Georgiana, ii. 32, 372 
Fitzroy, Lord Charles, ii. 210 
FitzwOliam, Lord, L 220 
Fl3am, Lieut., ii. 454 
Folkestone, Lord, L 82 
Forbes, Lady Elizabeth, i. 21 5, 268- 

69, 275, 284, 287, 309, 330, 337 
Forbes, Mr., L 13 
Forrester, Mr., L 157 
Forte, witness, iL 453 
Fox, Mr., L 108-109, 207 
Franklin, Benjamin, iL 173 
Freemantle, Sir Thomas, iL 54 

Gafrino, witness, iL 438. 
Galdini, Lui^, ii. 437 
Gait, John, 1. xii 
Gardon, Mme., i. 298 
'Gargulio, witness, ii. 426 
Garth, Miss, L 181, 184; ii. 295, 

Digitized b' 



Gell, Sir Wm., L 25, 28-29, $7, 79, 
106, 108, 166, 168, 171, 189, 
207, 215-16, 228. 231-32, 234- 
36, 240-41, 259, 263, 268-^, 274, 
284-8S. 2«7. 303-305* 337. 351. 
366-71. 373. 385. 407; ii.78- 
80. 106, 159-60, 185-86, 219, 
237-40, 245-46, 282, 293, 306, 

_ 335-39. 345. 361-62, 450, 45^ 

George III., i vi, 38, 80, 109, 298 ; 
u. 159, 186, 246, 283, 469 

Geozge, Prince Regent and after- 
waxt]s George IV., L vii, xii, 23, 
38, 44-45. 50-51. 75-77. 80, 85, 
93. 95. 101, iio-ii, 119, 123, 
128-29, 130-35. 139. 144-45. 150. 
160, 168-69. IS>6 200-202, 207, 
210-^1, 2i6, 221,232-33, 261-62, 
398. 354. 404-405. 416 ; ii, 40- 
41, 93. 120-21, 166-67, 197, 220, 
239. 254, 271 et ssq., 292, 319, 
343. 347-49. 359. 367-68, 371. 

Gerard, Mme., L 260-61 

C^isalieri, Marquis, L 350 n, ; ii. 
30, 129, 449 n. 

Gibbon, Wm., ii 49 

Gibbs, Sir Vicary, ii 52 

Girardin, Mme. de, i 257 

Glenbervie, Lady, i 24 n., 231, 305, 
310, 333-36, 341, 353. 356, 360, 
362, 365, 373, 382, 385-86, 400 ; 
Ii 286, 296, 301, 331-32, 358-59. 
361. 378 

Glenbervie, Lord, i 25. 305, 319, 
339. 353-356; ii 164, 301, 331. 
361, 377, 445 

GloQcester, Duke of, 1. 1 12 ; u. 

295. 378 
Glyone, Sir Stephen, i. 320 
Godwin, Wm., li. 108 
Gonsalvi, Cardinal, i 338, 409 ; ii 

19. 377 
Gontant, Mme. de, li 135 
Gordon, Duchess of, i 7, 83; ii. 

22, 30-31. 7^-7^* 289. 290-91, 338 
Gordon, Lady Geoi^giana, ii. 22, 

30. 339 
Gordon, Miss Jacky, i 70 
Gourgiardi, witness, ii. 440, 441 
Gower, Lord, i 4, 19, 22 
Graham, Mr., of Gartmore, i. 290 n, 
Grammont, Due de, i 71 
Giammont, Mile, de, ii a88 
Grant, Mrs., ii. 125, 264-65 

Grantham, Lord, ii 15 1 

Granville, Lady, i 33*.. 61, ij 

252 n. ; ii. 435 n., 437 «., 44^ 
Giassalkovich, Princess, i 305^ 

Grassini, Mme., i 227 
Grattan, Miss, i 220 
Graves, Lord, ii 339 
Gray, Sir George, ii. 56 
Grenville, Lord, i 81 
Greville, Lady Charlotte, i. 

Grey, General, ii 210 
Grey, Lady, i 7, 98, 212 
Grey, Lord, i 7, 81, 95, 98, 213 

Guicdazdini, Count, i 380-82 
Guildford, Lord, i 25 ; ii 361, i 
Guzsiare, witness, ii. 455 
Gwydir, Lord, ii 289 

Habcxlb, Mme. de, i 39, 45, 

Hall, Mzs.» nie Byng, i 60 
Hamilton. Lady Anne, i 19 m., 

49. 74. 99. I1I-I3, 130, 181, a 

ii. 160, 220, 298-99, 307, ; 

336-37. 370, 384. 386 
Hamilton and Argyll, Elizab 

Duchess of, i v, 244 ». ; ii. 6 w 
Hamilton, Emma, Lady, i 244 

ii. 107, 337-38 
Hamilton, Lord Archibald, i 

22, 28, 98 : ii. 191, 286 
Hamilton, Mrs., ii. 262 
Hamilton, Sir C, i. 150 
Hamilton, Sir William, i 244 ; 

Hampden, Lady, ii. 135 
Haidwicke, Lady, i 199 
Hardwicke, Lord, i 220 
Hare, Hon. Mr., ii 161 
Harley, Lady Jane, i. 28 
Harley, Lord, 1. 348 
Harris, Lady Frances, ii. 15 
Harrowby, Lady, i. 96 
Harxowby, Lord, i 3 
Hayman, Miss, i 400; ii. 21; 

Heathcote, Lady G., ii 153 
Heberden, Dr., 1. 80 
Herbert, Lord, i 35 
Heron, General, ii« 130 
Hertford, Lady, i 24, 64, 416 






Heve, CapUiii, i. IS4. 375> 2^4. 

Hierooymiis* lCr.» L 275 ; li 231 
HOiBbomgli. Lady, iL f 88 
Hobhoose, Bfr., L 207, 212 
MS, IL 182 
i. Dr., i. 231, 26j>. 275, 284. 

359. 3«i5-«6 ; ti- »9. a3a, 447-^ 
HoUand, Lady, it 196-97. 229 
HoUaad. Lord, L 95. 129 ; iL 196 
Holxoyd, Bin.. & 49 
Hobteiii, Princeas of, ii. 9 
Holt. Ux., iL fi7 
Hood, Loxd, iL 4B 
HoOiain, Sir Wm.. L 284 
Hownbam, Obtain Bobert» ii. 16 

n.. 231, 455 
Hant, fiCr., i. 82 

iNNisxtixSN, Lord, ii. 339 
Irvine, Mr., i. 396-97 

SKYLL, Joseph, i. 416 n. ; ii. 185 n. 
eraey, Lady, i. 14. a3. 47. 160 
laraey. Lord, t loi, 129 
iolmstoiie. Lady, i 70 
kxdaii, M18., i. 7, 83 
oseph. King of Spain, i 268 
fos^ihitte. En^reas, i. 180-81, 189 

Kbmt, Duke ol, i. 45, 150, 197, 406- 


J Lord, L 71 
Kilworth, Lord, L 71 
King, Captain, ii. 500 
King, Lofd, L 225 

Knight, BfiM, L xii, 1x5 «., 125-26, 
149 «., 177-7*. a««. 261 ; ii. 197. 
^252-53, 315, ^4. 3«4 
Knight, Mr.» 1. 63, 106 
Knntson, Mr., L 240, 368, 396 
Korsakoff, General, ii. 6$ 
Krantf , witness, ii 431 

La Chaux, Mme., i 346 
La Croix, M., it 159 
Lamb, George, L 94 
Lamb, Lady Caroline, t 6; iL 77, 
94, 206-207, 213-15, 242-44. 282 
Lamb,Wm.,L6; ii9o.282 
Landaff, Lord, i 307 
Lansdowne, Lord, L 95 ; ii. 202 
Lanti, Dnchessa, L 285 
La PeiiMisa, i. 7 
La Toache, Mr., ii. 114 

Landerdale, Lord. i. 94-95 
Lawronoe, Sir Thomas, ii 213, 255, 

Le Sianc, Mr., i 183 

Le Despcsioer, Lady, i 82 

Lee, Arthur, ii 173 

Leeds, Dnchess of, i 11 1, 117, 120, 

• ■ Hkrriet. 



^ t. Mr., ii 339 
Leinster, Dochess of, i 146 ; ii. 344 
Leinster, Duke af» i 35 
Leitaen. Ifias, i. 275 
Timnmaw. Bfir.. ii. 443-:44 
Lennox. Lady Mary, ii 103 
Leopokl of Saxe-Coboorg, Prince, 

ii 17, 28, 40, 80, rouL 162-63. "93 
Leveson, Lord GranYule, i 93-94* 

Lewv, M. (the " Monk "), i vi 5-9. 
SI, 75. «2-85, 98-99, 152-53. 
289 ; 11. 282, 291-92, 299. 323-35. 

L ewfa,S ophia, 11. 235-37, 240 
Lejpden, f obn, ii. 236-37 
Lieven, Goant, ii 198 
Lieven, Princess, ii 228-29 
Lindsay, Lady Charlotte, i. 24. 107- 
108, 112, 207, 219, 230, 235. 268- 
69. 302. 304-305. 307. 330. 336. 
398 ; u. 24X, 286, 293, 304. 306, 


ii. 384 
LIde, Birs., i 12 
Litta, Dnchessa, ii 154-55 
Liverpool, Lord, i 120-2 1. 129-50, 

138-39. 230-31. 404-405. 407; 

ii. 384. 457 
Livingstone, Mr., i 3 
Llandaff, Lord, ii 112, 449 
Lock, Mrs., i 22 «., 150, 190. 241 
Look, WUIiam, ii 27 
Lockhart, J. G., li 115 
Long, Miss, i 71, 83 
Longman and Rees, Messrs., i 123 
Loriol, BL, i 297 

Lonis XVIII., i 62. 73, 179, 194. 
, 195.197. 199. 335. 401 
Lncan, Lord, i 40, 109, 273 
Lttdne, M., ii A38 
Lttdlow, Lord, ii. 210 
LosUngton, Sir Henzy, ii 182, 333- 

LnttreU, Mr., i 2f , fo8, 225, 230 ; 

ii. 341-^3 

Digitized by 




1Iacaulay« Mib., ii. $26 
Macanlay, Mr.. iL 196 
MacDonald, Donald, i. 83 
MacDonald, Mr., i. ai 
MacDonald, Mbosieiir, iL 352 
Marfrmirift, Mr., ii 102, 109, 125 
Mackenae, Miss.ol Kintail, ii 140 
Mackintosh, Sir James, i 63, 271 
Macmahon, i xi8-i9 
Maitland, Cok>nel, ii 339 
Majoccbi, Theodore, ii. 418-20, 425- 

Ma^MM. Ladv, ii 341. 359 
Malpas. Lord, i 341, 381 ; ii 359 
Manby, Captain, i 30 «. 
Mansell, Mrs., i 199 
Maoni, witness, ii 459 
Marie Loniae, the Empress, i. i8x, 

367, 275. 282-84 
Mardn, Mr., ii 161 
Martini, witness, ii. 459 
Marjr, Princess, i 113 »., 120 
Masio, Marquise, ii 104 
Matthew, General, i 307 
Medwin, Captain, ii 108 
Melbourne, Lady, i 99 ; ii« 256 
Melbourne, Lord, ii 333 
Melville, Lord, ii 96-97* 39^ 
Meroer, Miss, i 154, 261 ; ii. 89, 

ia6, 319 
Mercer, Mr., i 28-29, 189 
Miardi, Signor, ii 431 
Middleton, Mr., i 54 n. 
Mildmav, Sir Heniy, ii 100, x 32 
Mills, Charles, i 172 ; ii. 447 
Milner, Mr., i 390 ; ii 339 
Bloira, Lord, i 55-56, 81, 123; ii 

^ 395 

Monaoo, Prince of, i 317-18 

Montagu. Lady Ms^ Wortley, ii. 

Montagu, Lord Frederick, ii. 207 
Montgomeiy, Lady Elisabeth, ii 

Monro, Dr., i 80 
Montresor, General, ii 210 
Montrose, Duchess of, ii 103 
Moore, Dr. John, ii 331 
Moore, Frank, ii )S7 
Moore, Sir John, li xi2 
BIdore, Thomas, i 3s, 371 ; ii 200- 

202, 210, 303 
Morando, Mme., i 381 
Morehead, Rev. Mr., ii 265 
Morgan. Lady, ii. 5. 35. ^5. ^89 

Morpeth, Lady Georgiana, i 61 
Morton, Lord, ii 89 
Moseley, Dr., i 47 
Munster, Count, i io>i i ; ii. 16 n, 
Mnrat, King oi Nafiles, i 260, 270, 
276, 287, 299, 307. 324, 336. 343 «. , 
^,347. 34?. 350 «., 351. 355 n. : ii 30 
Murray, Lord James, ii 210 
Murray, Sir George, ii 133 
Murray. Sir John, i 68 

Nbcxak, Louis, i 277-78 
Neckar, Mme., i 278-79 
Nelson, Laid, ii 337 
Neuburgh, de M., 1. 309 
Nioolai, Baton, i 230 
Nightingale, Mr., ii 12 
Nightingale, Mrs., ii. 12 
North, MX., i 67 ; ii. 35, 244 
North, Mr. F., i 307, 330, 336 
Nugent, Lord, i 212, 230 
Nugent, Mr., i X08-109, '225, 230 
Nugent, Mrs., i 77, 120 ; ii. 343 

(yBsiBN, Colonel, ii 459 
(yConneU, Mr., i 19 
Oggkme, witness, ii 431 
(Mdenburgh, Duchess oi, i 196-97, 

203,2x4,402; ii28,40,368 
OUi, Comtesse Angelina, ii 99, 30, 

X29,X38,x$6, 231-32, 430 
Ompteda, Baion, li 16-17, 447 
Orange, Prince of, i 19, 197, 203* 

207, 2X9, 22X-23, 227, 270, 403, 

407 ; ii 8, X7, 80, 30X, 315, 367, 

Qrto, witness, ii 440 
Qssulston, Lord, ii. 288 
Owen, Mrs., i 71 
Owen, Sir J., i 146 
Oxford, Lady, i 4 m., 14, 19, 22, 2$, 

28, 69-70. 83, 97-98. 125, 129, 

274, 301-302, 304-305. 34« ; tt. 

282, 2»7* 392-^3. 298. 300, 306- 

307. 3«5. 335. 343. 37^ 

Pagxt, Lady Mary, ii 339 
Paget, Sir Bdward, ii. 210 
PaUavidni. Madame, ii 24X 
Pslmeda, W., i 381 
Palmerstott, Lord, ii 395 
Pur, Dr., i 223 
PfttufBO, Gaetaas, ii 422-24 
Pschell, Captain, i 342-48, 3^3, 374- 
7S; U.429 

Digitized by 


P^xcival, Lady. i. 82, iii, zi8. 162- 

63 ; ii. 220 
P^icival, Mr., i. 17, 82 n„ 92-^, 

307 ; ii. 285, 296-97 
PercT, Lord Algerooa, L 375 
Penucati. Comtesse. ii. 104 
Pe3rtoii. Sir H., iL 339 
Pindar. Lady Chaiiotte. ii. xo6 
Playftdr, Pzofesaor. i. 199 
Pble. Miss, ii 89. 93. 372 
Pdle. W. WeUesley. i. 71, 83 
Pomarti. M.. ii. 458 
Pomi. witness, ii. 458 
Ponsonby. Colonel. iL 210 
Ponsonby. Miss. ii. 307 
Pcxnscmby. William, ii. 90 
Portland, Duke of. i. 3. 47. 371 
Poole, Mrs., i. 22 
Porter. Miss. iL 255 
Pritchaid, Mrs.. iL 71 
Pkussia. Queen of. L 19 
Plichi. Pietio« iL 430 

QuEBNSBBRRY, Doke of, ii. 223-4 N.. 
291 n, 

Rahsay. General. iL 6$ 
Randiffe. Lord. ii. 352 
RastelH. witness. iL 439. 4S5» 457-59 
Rawdon. Elisabeth. L 127. 169. 223. 

230, 261 ; iL 325. 393 
Rawdon, Lady Charlotte. L 192; 

ii. 27 
Rawdon. Mrs.. L 127. 154. 169. 209. 

223, 230, 261 ; ii. 19^7. 284 
Reid. Lady, L 144 ; iL 390-91 
Revelt, 11 de, L 335 
Rezenti, witness, ii. 458 
Rivers, Lady. iL 326 
Riveis, Lord, L 28 
Riviiftre, Mme., L 318 
Robarts, Mrs., L 187 
Robinson. Mr.. L 188 
Rocca, M. de. L 175, 269. 279 ; ii. 

25. 26 
Rogers. Samuel, ii. 341, 411 
Romilly, Sir Samuel, i. 41 
Roscius, the young, ii. 288 
Roaebery, Lady, ii. loo-ioi, 132 
Rnmbold, Miss Emily, L 65 ; ii. 

99 and n, 
RuneU, Lady, of Swallowfield, Lx. n. 
Russell, Lady William, iL 19^7 
Russia, Emperor of, u 196, 204, 

212-13.401 ; iL373 

Rutland, Duchess of. L 32 ; iL 197 
Rutland. Duke of. L 95* 157 

St. Agathb, Mme. de. L 318. 344 
St. Albans, Duchess oi, L 70 
St« Lawrence, Hon. Thomas. iL 1 16 
St. Leger, Colonel. L 93. 183, 206, 

268-69.301,337; ii.444 
St. Leger. Lady. iL 188 
Salisbury, Lady, L 190, 241, 283 ; 

iL 263, 326 
Sapio. Signor. L 43 n., no ic., 116. 

138, 159, 170. 209, 213. 237; ii. 

169, 388 
Sardinia. King of, L 317. 378, 388 ; 

iL 259 
Saunders, Huck. i. 252 n. 
Saxe-Gotha. Prince Frederick, L 286 
Scott. Mr., i. 69 
Scott. Sir Walter. L vi, 68, 115 ; 

^ 93-94* loi «.. 102, 109, 115, 

124-25. 140, 178-180, 237, 252. 

Scott. Sir William, L 138 ; iL 52 
Sebastian!, M. de. i. 268 
Sefton, Lady, i. 268 
Sefton, Lord. L 217 ; ii. 33 
Sharpe, Charles Kirkpatrldc, L vi. 

», 34-36* 57-<5i. 05-72. 7^7 S» 

86-89 ; ii. 170-72, 200, 203» 206, 

224-26, 233-37 
Sharpe. Granville (Conversatkm ?), 

iL 210. 455 
Shelboume, Lady. ii. 326 
Shelley. Lady. ii. 108 
Shelley. Percy B., L 35-36 
Sheridian, Mrs.. iL 281 
Sheridan, Tom, i. 290 ; iL 323-24 
Siccard. Mr., L 275 ; iL 19, 218, 285. 

302, 447-^9 
Siddons, Mrs., i. 18 ; iL 69, 71 
Sinclair. Sir John, L 83 
Sismondi, M.. L 271, 280 ; ii. 25. 

268. 270, 350-56 
Skefiington. sir Lumley. L 66 
Sligo. Lord. L m 
Smith. Adam. li. 83-^4 
Smith, Rev. Sidney. L 224-25 ; ii. 353 
Smith. Sir Sidney, L 30 m., 199; 

Sneyd, Mr. ( ?), iL 228-29 
Solms (Salms). Princess of, iL 6-7. 90 
Somerset, Lord F». iL 89. 93, 372 
Sophia, Princess. L 62, 120, 181. 

188, 402 



Scmthampton, Lady, ii. 326 

Soathey, R., L 371 

Spencer. William, iL 377 

Stair, Bail of, i. 70 

Stael. Madama de, i. 64, 98, 155, 
175. 189-90. 199. 267, 271, 278- 
79, 288. 294-95 J ii. 13 «< seq., 
25, 117-18. 126. 230. 248-^9. 
270. 328, 346, 365-66, 369 

Stanhope, Lady Hester, i. 7$ ; iL 285 

Stewart. Lady Eaphemia, ii 299 

Stewart. Lord. L 261 

Stewart, Ifias, of Blantyre. i. 68 

Strathaven. Lord, i« 381 

Strathmore. Lady, t 57 

Stuart Keith.!. 199 

Stuart, Lady Louisa, i 30 if. ; ii. 

Sumner, Archbishop, ii. 219 

Sussex, Dnke ol. i. 140, 197, 262 ; 
it 89, 293, 409 

Symons. Dr., i. 80 

Talbot. Lady, of Barrington, ii. 60 
Tankerville, Lord, iL 288 
Tavistock. Lord, i 129 
Taylor. M. A., i. 93 
Taylor. Sir Simeon, iL x8 1 
Taylor. Watson, iL i8x 
Thackeray, W.M..Lix, x; ii. 5 n, 
Theoline, Colonel, ii. 449 
Thnrloe. Was, ii. 319 
Tiemey, Mr.. L 130, 217 
Tollemache. Lady Bridget, ii. 326 
Torkmia. Prince, ii. 4-5 n., 76, 169 
Townshend. Lady, ii. 7, 326 
Twiss. Mrs., L 18 
Tyrwhitt, Sir Thomas, L 204 

Vamsittakt, Mr., L 307 
Vassalli, Cavaliere. ii. 459 
Vandremont, Mme. de, L 255 
Vandxeoil. Mme. de, i. 189 
Veia, Mme., ii. 31 
Vemand. Mme. de Poller. L 304 
Vestris. M.. iL 22 
Villegarde, Mme. de, L 328-29 
Villieis, Mrs., L 188-89 
VIsconti, Dnchessa. L 396 
Vivian. Rev. Mr., L 338 

Walosgravb, Aichdeaoon. L 336 
Waklegrave. Lady. iL 63 
Walesln. Comtesse, L 397 
Walker. Rev. Mr., iL 265 . . 
Walpole. Horace ^ lr I ill »& \\,^f 

Walpole. R., L 399 

Waitmrton, Dr., ii. 370 

Ward, Mr., L 13, 21, 24. 27. 6$, io8, 

171. 225, 299 ; iL 293, 296. 342 
Ward. Mrs.. L 244 n, 
Warren. Lady. L 102 
Wellesley, Lord, L 80, 94-95, 100 
Wellington, Dnke of . L 55, 173-74. 

194, 328. 263 ; ii. 23, 32, 89, 181. 

Wemyss. Lord, u. 291 
Westmorland, Lady. L 212, 252-53. 

^5# 27i» 396. 403; iL 19. 36, 

42, 54, 255-57 
Whitbread, Lady Elisabeth, L 98. 

190, 208, 308 ; iL 16, 34. 293 
Whitbread. Mr., L X13, 122. 136, 

140. 152. 198. 200, 209. 214-20, 

225-27, 232-34. 236-37; iL 16. 


Whitcomb, Mr., iL 450 

White, lifiss Lydia. ii. 199, 200, 209- 
210, 226-27 

White, Mrs., ii. 1 10 

Whittingham, General. iL 21 1 

Whitworth. Lord, iL 22 

Willis, Dr. J., L 80 

Willis, N. P.. L ix 

Willonghby, Lady, iL 289 

Wilmot. Sfo., iL 281 

Wilson. John (Christopher North). 
iL 207. 252, 260 

Wilson, Lady Frances. iL 27 

Wilson, Mttses, ii. 207 

Wilson, Sir Robert J.. L 255 

Wood, Alderman, L 214-15 

Worcester, Lord, L 99 ; iL 32, 372 

Wortembeijg;, Charlotte (of Bruns- 
wick), Princess of. L 164-66 

Wurtembeig, Prince Paxil, L 196, 
199 ; ii. 25 

Wynne. Miss, ii. 103 

Yarmouth, Lord, L 81, 179; ii. 

York, Dnchess of, L 85 ; ii. 92. 378 
York. Duke of. L 18. 82-95. 4^3 ; 

ii. 197. 357. 375. 409. 469. 470 

Zabloukoff, General, L 161-62; 

Zabloukoff, Madame, i. 406 
Zacchi, witness, ii. 440 
Zangla, witness, ii. 459 
Znriton, M., L 308 

Digitized by 


come for giving r^nglish versions of all his imaginative 
works, and of his monumental study JOAN OF ARC, 
which is undoubtedly the most discussed book in the world 
of letters to-day. 

f MR. JOHN LANE has pleasure in announcing that 
he will commence publication of the works of M. 
ANATOLE FRANCE in English, under the general 
editorship of MR. FREDERIC CHAPMAN, with the 
following volumes : 

the red uly 

mother of pearl 

the garden of epicurus 

the crime of sylvestre bonnard 

the well of st. clare 

the opinions of jerome coignard 

jocasta and the famished cat 


the aspirations of jean servien 

the elm tree on the mall 

my friend's book 

the wicker-work woman 


JOAN OF ARC (a voli.) 

f All the books will be published at 6/- each with the 
exception of JOAN OF ARC, which will be 25/- net 
the two volumes, with eight Illustrations. 

f The format of the volumes leaves little to be desired. 
The size is Demy Svo (9 x 5| in.), that of this Prospectus, and 
they will be printed from Caslon type upon a paper light in 
weight and strong in texture, with a cover design in crimson 
and gold, a gilt top, end-papers from designs by Aubrey 
Beardsley and initials by Henry Ospovat In short, these are 
volumes for the bibliophile as well as the lover of fiction, 
and form perhaps the cheapest library edition of copyright 
novels ever published, for the price is only that of an 
ordinary novel. 

f The translation of these books has been entrusted to 
such competent French scholars as MR. Alfred iiLLiNsoN, 



At all times he is the unreletiting foe of superstition and 
hTpocrisy. Of himself he once modestly said : ^ You will find 
in my writings perfect sincerity (lying demands a talent I do 
not possess), much indulgence, and some natural a£kction for 
the beaudml and good." 

f The mere extent of an author's popularity is perhaps a 
poor argument, yet it is significant that two bools by this 
author are in their HUNDRED AND TENTH THOU- 
SAND,and numbers of them well into their SEVENTIETH 
THOUSAND, whilst the one which a Frenchman recently 
described as ^ Monsieur France's most arid book " is in its 

f Inasmuch as M FRANCE'S ONLY contribution to 
an English periodical appeared in THE YELLOW BOOK, 
vol. v., April 1S95, together with the first important Elfish 
appreciation of his work from the pen of the Hon. Maurice 
Baring, it is peculiarly appropriate that the English edition 
of his works should be issued from the Bodley Head. 



To Mr.. 


Tlease send me the following works of t/fnaiole France 

to be issued in yune and yufy : 

for which I enclose 



JOHN LANE,PuBLWHiii,THBBoDLBY Head, VicoSt.London, W. 




By Teodor de Wyzewa. Translated from the French by C. H. 
Jeffreson, m.a. With Numerous lUustrations. Demy 8to 
(9 X 5 J inches). 7/. 6d, net. 


Rosa Newmarch. With 6 full-page Portraits. Demy 8n>. 

7/. dd. net. 

.^/oMAtn/.—" Distinctly a book that should be read . . . pleasantly written and well 


(1840-1893). By his Brother, M0DE8TB Tchaikovsky. Edited 
and abridged from the Russian and German Editions by Rosa 
Newmarch. With Numerous Illustrations and Facsimiles and an 
Introduction by the Editor. Demy 8vo. 7/. 6i/. net. Second 

TJu Times.— "A most illuminating commentary on Tchaikovsky's music." 

WorUL—-** One of the most fascinating self>revelations by an artist which has been giren to 

the world. The translation is excellent, and worth reading for its own sake." 
Canitmporary Review. — " The book's appeal is, of course, ^maril^ to the music-lover ; bat 
there is so much of human and literary interest in it, such intimate revelatioo of a 
singularly interesting personality, that many who have never come under the spell of 
the Pathetic Sympm>ny will be strongly attracted by what b virtually the spnitual 
autobiography of its composer. High ra-aise is due to the translator and editor for the 
literary skill with which she has prepued the English version of this fisscinating work . . . 
There have been few collections of letters published within recent yean that give so 
vivid a portrait of the writer as that presented to us in these pages." 


The Life of Thomas William Coke, First Earl of Leicester of 
the second creation, containing an account of his Ancestry, 
Surroundings, Public Services, and Private Friendships, and 
including many Unpublished Letters from Noted Men of his day, 
English and American. By A. M. W. Stirling. With 20 
Photogravure and upwards of 40 other Illustrations reproduced 
from Contemporary Portraits, Prints, etc. Demy 8vo. 2 vols. 
32/. net. 

The Timet,—** We thank Mr. Stirling for one of the most interesting memoirs of recent 

Dtdly Telegraph.—" A very remarkable literary performance. Mrs. Stirling has achieved 

a resurrection. She has fashioned a picture of a dead and forgotten Mst and brou^it 

before our eyes with the vividness of oreathing existence thelifeof our English anoeston 

of the eighteenth century." 
PeUl Mall Giuttte. — *' A work of no common interest ; in fact, a work which may almost be 

called unique." 
Evening Standard.—** One of the most interesting biographies we have read for year&* 


NEYy K.C.M.G.9 Commander of Li Hung Chang's trained 
force in the Taeping RebeUion, founder of the first Chinese 
Arsenal, Secretary to the first Chinese Embassy to Europe. 
Secretary and Councillor to the Chinese Legation in London for 
thirty years. By Demetrius C. Boulger, Author of the 
« History of China,*' the « Life of Gordon,** etc. With Illus- 
trations. Demy Svo. Price 24J. net. 

Dmiiy Gra^kie.'-^* It U safe to lay that few readers will be able to pat down the book with- 
out feeling the better for haying read it . . . not only full of personal interest, bat 
tells OS much that we never knew before on some not unimportant details." 


EVENTS. By S. Baring-Gould, m.a.. Author of " Yorkshire 
Oddities," etc. With 58 Illustrations. Demy Svo. 21/. net. 

Dmfy Ntwus.—" A fascinating series . . . the whole book is rich in human interest. It is 
by personal tooches, drawn from traditions and memories, that the dead men surrounded 
by the carious panoply of their time, are made to live again in Mr. Baring.Goufd's pages.'* 

EVENTS. By S. Barihc-Gouio. Demy 8vo. i6/. net. 


from the French of Francis Laur by Violette Montagu. 
With an Introduction by John Macdonald, Portraits and other 
Illustrations. Demy 8to. 7/. 6^/. net. 

Diiify TtUgra^h,-^^* It is Gambetta pouring 'out his soul to Ltonie Leon, the strange, 
pasdonate, masterfal demagogue, who wielded the most pexsuanve oratory of modem 
times, acknowledging his idol, his insinration, his Egeria." 


Written by Lady Faoshawe. With Extracts from the Correspon- 
dence of Sir Richard Fanshawe. Edited by H. C. Fanshawe. 
With 38 Full-page Illustrations^ including four in Photogravure 
and one in Colour. Demy 8vo. i6/« net. 

%* Thit Bdition has ht&m prinitd direct from tht onghud mattuseript in ih€ fustian 
^fth€ FansAaaft Family ^ and Mr. H, C Fatukawe catUriiuUs ntmumu notet which 
Jbrm a rummng atmmgntary 9n the text. Many famous ^tures are reproduced^ inciud' 
ing paintings by Velaajuea and Van Dyck* 

Digitized by 




Lady Charlotte Bury. Beiog the Diary lUustratiye of the 
Times of George the Fourth. Interspersed with original Letters 
from the late Queen Caroline and from various other distinguished 
persons. New edition. Edited, with an Introduction, by A. 
Francis Steuart. With numerous portraits. Two Vols- 
Demy 8vo. 21s. net. 

*»* TAit ba^kf which t^peartd anonymously in 1838, created an enormous semsa/iom^ 
and was fiercely criHeieed by Thackeray and in the Reviews 0/ the time. There is mo 
donbt that it was founded on the diary of Lady Charlotte Bury^ danghieroftht 5/A Dmke 
of Argyll, and Lady-in-Waiting to the unfortunate Caroline of Brunswick^ mhsm 
Princess of Wales. It deais^ therefore^ with the curious Court of the latter and with ike 
s c an da ls that occurred there ^ as well as with the strange vagaries of the Princess ahrvnd. 
In this edition names left blank in the original have been {where possible) filled up, eend 
many notes are given by the Editor to render it useful to the ever'increasing natmherof 
readers interested in the leUer Georgian Period. 


Ther^se-Charlotte of France, Duchesse D'Angoultoe. By G. 
Lenotre. With 13 Full-page Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 
loj. 6</. net. 

*»* Hf. G. Lenotre is perhaps the most widely read of a group ^modern French vfriters 
who have succeeded in treating history from a point of view at once scientific, dramatic 
and popular. He has made the Revolution his particular field of research, and deals mat 
only with the most prominent figures of that period ^ but with many minor characters 
whose li/i-stories are quite eu thrilling as anything in fiction. The localities in which 
these dramas were ena c te d are vividly brought before us in his works, for no one kns 
reconstructed iSth century Paris with more picturesque emd accurate detail. " Tha 
Daughter of Louis XVI** is quite equal in interest and literary merit to easy of tko 
volumes which have preceded it, not excepting the famous Drama of Vetrennes. As usueU, 
M, Lenotre draws his material largely from contempor€uy documents, and among tka 
most remarkable memoirs reproduced in this book are " The Story of my Visit to tha 
Temple " by Harmand de la Mouse, and the artless, but prof oundly touching narrative oj 
the unhappy orphaned Pritscess: "A manuscript written by Marie Thirise Chariot to 
of France upon the captivity of the Princes and Princesses, her relatives, imprisoned in 
the Temple." The illustrations are a feature of the volume atsd include the so-called 
" telescope "portrait of the Princess, shetchedfrom life by an emonymous ewtist, statiosud 
eU a window opposite her prison in the tower of the Temple. 


biography by Aucs M. Diehl, Novelist, Writer, and Musician. 
Demy 8vo. lo/. 6^. net. 

Daily Chronicle.'-^* This work . . . has the introspective touch, intimate and revealing, 
which autobiography, if it is to be worth anything, should have. Mrs. Diefal's pages have 
reality, a living throb, and so are indeed autobiogiaphy." 

Digitized by 



Edited and Annotated by Alexander Carlyle, with N« 
an Introduction and numerous Illustrations. In Two T 
Demy 8vo. 25/. net. 

Pail Mall Gtuette.—** To the portrait of the man, Thomas, these letters do 
value ; we can learn to respect and to like him the more for the genuine good 

Mermng Lmder. — "These volumes open the very heart of Carlyle." 

Literary World. — *' It is then Carlyle, the nobly filial son, we see in these letten 
the generous and ajflfectionate brother^ the loyal and warm-hearted firiend 
above all, Ci^lyle as the tender and faithful lover of his wife." 

Daily^ Telegraph.—** The letters are characterbtic enough of the Carlyle we k 
picturesque and entertaining, full of extravagant emphasis, written, as a rul 
neat, eloquently rabid and emotionaL" 


** My Relations with Carlyle." By Sir James Crichton 
and Alexander Carlyle. Demy Svo. 3/. 6^. net. 

Glasgow Herald. — ". . . The book practically accomplishes its task of reinstatin 

as an attack on Fronde it is overwhelming." 
Public OMnioa, — " The main object of the book is to prove that Froude believ< 

and betrayed his trust. That aim has been achieved." 


WELSH CARLYLE. A Collection of hitherto Unp 
Letters. Annotated by Thomas Carlyle, and Ed 
Alexander Carlyle, with an Introduction by Sir James C 
Browne, m.d., ll.d., f.r.s., numerous Illustrations drawn ii 
graphy by T. R. Way, and Photogravure Portraits from 
unreproduced Originals. In Two Volumes. Demy 8vo. : 

Westminster Geuuite. — " Few letters in the language have in such perfection th< 
which ^ood letters should possess. Frank, gay, brilliant, indiscreet, immens 
whimsical, and audacious, they reveal a character which, with whatever alio) 
infirmity, must endear itself to any reader of understanding." 

World.— **1\ixom% a deal of new light on the domestic relations of the Sage o 
They also contain the full text of Mrs. Carlyle's fascinating journal, anc 
' humorous and quaintly candid ' narrative of her first love-affatr." 

Daily News. — " Every page . . . scintillates with keen thoughts, biting criticism 
phrases, and touches of bright comedy." 

EMILE ZOLA : Novelist and Reformer. 

Account of his Life, Work, and Influence. By E. A. V12 
With numerous Illustrations, Portraits, etc. Demy 8to. 2 

Morning Post. — "Mr. Ernest Viseielly has given . • . a very true insight intc 

character, and life of the novelist." 
Atheneeum. — ". . . Exhaustive and interesting." 
M.A.P.—*\ . . will sund as the classic biography of Zola." 
Star.—" This ' Life' of Zola is a very fascinating book." 
Academy.—" It was inevitable that the authoritative life of Emile Zola should b 


admirably by Mr. Visetelly. I can promise any one who takes it up that he i 
very diflKult to lay it down again." 




detailed record of the last two years of the Reign of His Most 
Sacred Majesty King Charles the First, 1 646-1 648-9. Com- 
piled by Allan Fea. With upwards of 100 Photogravure 
rortraits and other Illustrations, including relics. Royal 410. 
1 05 J. net. 

Mr. M. H. Spxslmann in The Aeademy,'—** The volnme is a triamph for the printer and 

publisher, and a solid contribution to Carolinian literature." 
Pail Mall Gaaeitt. — " The present sumptuous volume, a storehouse of eloquent associadom 
. . comes as near to outward perfection as anything we could desire." 


temporary Account of King Charles II.'s escape, not included in 
" The Flight of the King." By Allan Fea. With numerous 
Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 15/. net. 

Morning Post,— ^* The work possesses all the interest of a thrilling historical romance, the 

scenes of which are described bj^ the characters themselves, in the language of the time, 

and forms a valuable contribntion to existing Stuart literature." 
Western Morning News, — "Mr. Fea has shown great industry in investigating ev er y 

possible fact that has any bearing on his subject, and has succeeded in thoroogfaly 

establishing the incidents of that romantic escape." 
Standard,—** . . . throws fresh light on one of the most romantic episodes in the annab of 

English History." 

KING MONMOUTH: being a History of the 

Career of James Scott, the Protestant Duke, 1649- 168 5. By 
Allan Fea. With 14 Photogravure Portraits, a Folding-plan of 
the Battle of Sedgemoor, and upwards of 100 black and white 
Illustrations. Demy Svo. 21/. net. 

Morning Post. — *' The story of Monmouth's career is one of the mast remarkable in tbe 
annals of English History, and Mr. Fea's volume is singularly fascinating. Not only 
does it supplement and correct the prejudiced though picturesque pages of Macaulay, 
but it seems to make the reader personally acquainted with a lar^e number of tbe 
characters who prominently figured in the conspiracies and in the intrigues, amocoos 
and political, when society and politics were seething in strange cauldrons." 


Barres, Rene Bazin, Paul Bourget, Pierre de Coulevain, Anatole 
France, Pierre Loti, Marcel Prevost, and Edouard Rod. Bio- 
graphical, Descriptive, and Critical. By Winifred Stephens. 
With Portraits and Bibliographies. Crown 8vo. 5/. net. 

%• The toriter, who has lived much in France^ is thoroughly acquainted with French 
life and with the ^ncipal currents of French thought. The hooh is intended to he a 
guide to English readers desirous to keep in tonch with the best ^resent^-dmy French 
fiction. Special attention is given to the ecclesiastical^ social^ and intellectual prohUms 
0/ contemporary France and their influence upon the works qf French novelists of i^-dety, 


being the Life of Sir Richard Granville, Baronet (i 600-1 659). 
By Roger Granville, M.A., Sub-Dean of Exeter Cathedral. 
With Illustrations. Demy 8vo. ioj. 6^. net. 

Westminster Gaaett4.—** K distinctly interesting work; it will be highly appreciated by 
historical students as well as by ordinary readers." 

Digitized by 



Stephen Hawker, sometime Vicar of Morweostow in Cornwall. 
By C. E. Byles. With numerous Illustrations by J. Ley 
Pethyb&idgb and others. Demy 8vo. 7/. 6d. net. 

Daify TtUgrapJu — " ... As soon as the ▼oliune is opened one finds oneself in the presence 
of a real original, a man of ability^ genius and eccentricity ^ of whoni one cannot know 
too much . . . No one will read tbis fascinating and charmingly produced book without 
thanks to Mr. Byles and a desire to visit— or revisit— Morwenstow." 


GixxTHRisT. Edited with an Introduction by W.Graham Robertson. 
Numerous Reproductions from Blake's most characteristic and 
remarkable designs. Demy 8vo. loj. 6^. net. New Edition. 

Birmingham Post. — "Nothing seems at all likelsr ever to supplant the Gilchrist biography. 
Mr. Swinburne praised it magnificently in his own eloquent essay on Blake, and there 
should be no need now to point out its entire sanity, understanding keenness of critical 
insight, and masterly literary style. Dealing with one of the most difficult of subjecu, 
it ranks among the finest things of its kind that we possess." 


The correspondence of Edmund Pyle, d.d.. Domestic Chaplain to 
George II, with Samuel Kerrich, d.d., Vicar of Dersingham, and 
Rector of Wolferton and West Newton. Edited and Annotated 
by Albert Ha RTSHORNE. With Portrait. DemySvo. 16/. net. 

Truth. — " It is undoubtedly the most important book of the kind that has been published 
in recent years, and Is certain to disturb many readers whose minds have not travelled 
with the time." 

GEORGE MEREDITH : Some Characteristics. 

By Richard Le Gallienne. With a Bibliography (much en- 
larged) by John Lane. Portrait, etc. Crown 8vo. 5/. net. Fifth 
Edition. Revised. 

Punch. — "All Meredithians must possess 'George Meredith; Some Characteristics,' by 
Richard Le Gallienne. This book is a complete and excellent guide to the novelist and 
the novels, a sort of Meredithian Bradshaw, with pictures of the traffic superintendent 
and the head office at Boxhill. Even Philistines may bo won over by the blandishments 
of Mr. Le Gallienne." 


of the Ancestry, Personal Character, and Public Services of the 
Fourth Earl of Chesterfield. By W. H. Craig, M.A. Numerous 
Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 1 2/. 6^. net. 

Daily TeUgraph.—** Mr. Crai^ has set out to present him (Lord Chesterfield) as one of the 
striking figures of a formative period in our modem history . . . and has succeeded in 
giving us a very attractive biography of a remarkable man." 

Times.—** It is the chief point of Mr. Craig's book to show the sterling qualities^ which 
Chesterfield was at too much pains in concealing, to reject the perishable trivialities of 
his character, and to exhibit him as a philosophic statesman, not inferior to any of hts 
contemporaries, except Walpole at one end of his life, and Chatham at the other.'* 

Digitized by 




of Caroline of Bmnswicky Queen of England. From the Italian 
of G. P. Clerici. Translated by Frederic Chapman. "With 
numerous Illustrations reproduced from contemporary Portraits and 
Prints. Demy 8vo. 21/. net. 

The Daily TeUgra^h. — " It could tcmrody be dcHtt more thoron^ly or, on the whole, in 
bettv taste than as here duplayed by Professor Clerici. Mr. Frederic Chapman himself 
contributes an uncommonly interesting and well-informed introduction.*' 

WestminsUr GmzeUe,—** The volume, scholarly and well-informed . . . forms one long and 
absorbingly interesiing chapter of the chronique sctuulmUuse of Court Hfe . . . reads 
like a romance, except that no romancer would care or dare to pack his pages so doseiy 
with startling effects and fantastic scenes." 


GRIDLEY HOWE. Edited by his Daughter Laura E. 
Richards. With Notes and a Preface by F. B. Sanborh, an 
Introduction by Mrs. John Lane, and a Portrait. Demy 8to 
(9 X 5I inches). 1 6s, net. 

Outlook,—*^ This deei^y interesting record of experience. The Tolume is wmthily prodaoed 
and contains a striking portrait of Howe." 

Daily Ntws.—** Dr. Howe's book is full of shrewd touches ; it seems to be very moch a pact 
of the lively, handsome man of the portrait. His writing u striking and vivid ; it is the 
writing of a shrewd, keen observer, intensely interested in the event before him." 


Translated from the Italian of an Unknown Fourteenth-Century 
Writer by Valentina Hawtrey. With an Introductory Note by 
Vernon Lee, and 14 Full-page Reproductions from the Old Masters. 
Crown 8vo. 5/. net. 

Daily News, — " Miss Valentina Hawtrey has given a most excellent English vecsioa oftlus 

pleasant work." 
Academy. — '* The fourteenth-century fancy plays ddightfiilly around the meagre detaila of 

the Gospel narrative, and presents the heroine in quite an unconventional light. ... 

In its directness and artistic simplicity and its wealth of homely detail the story reauis 

like the work of some Boccaccio of the cloister ; and fourteen illnstrations taken from 

Italian painters happily illustrate the charming text.'* 

MEN AND LETTERS. By Herbert PAu^ m.p. 

Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5/. net. 

Daily News. — " Mr. Herbert Paul has done scholars and the reading world in goienl a high 

service in publishing this collection <^ lus essays." 
Punck.—" His fund of good stories is inexhaustible, and his urbanity never foils. On the 

whole, this book is one of the very best examples of literature on literature and life." 

ROBERT BROWNING: Essays and Thoughts. 
By J. T. Nettleship. With Portrait. Crown 8vo. 5/. 6^. net. 
(Third Edition.) 

Digitized by 



A LATER PEPYS. The Correspondence of Sir 
William Weller Pcpys, Bart., Master in Chancery, 1758-1825, 
with Mrs. Chapone, Mrs. Hartley, Mrs. Montague, Hannah More, 
William Franks, Sir James Macdonald, Major Rennell, Sir 
Nathaniel Wraxall, and others. Edited, with an Introduction and 
Notes, by Auce C. C. Gaussen. With numerous lUustrations. 
Demy 8vo. In Two Volumes. 32/. net. 

Douglas Sladbn in the Queen,— "Thh b indupaubly a most valnable contribution to the 
literature of the eighteenth centnry. It is a veritable storehouse of society gossip, the 
art criticism, and the mote of fismons people." 

Academy a$td Liierahtre.—** The effect consists in no particnlar passages, but in the total 
impression, the sense of atmosphere, and the general feeling that we are being introduced 
into the very society in which the ynitee moved." 

Daily News,—" To Miss Alice Gaussen is due the credit of sorting out the vast collection of 
coiTcspondence which is here presented to the public. . . . Her industry is indefatigable, 
and her task has been carried out with completeness. The notes are full of interesting 
items ; the introduction is exhaustive ; and the collection of Ulustrations enhances the 
value of the book." 

Wprld, — "Sir William Pepys's correspondence is admirablep'* 

Richard Le Galuenne. Crown 8to. 4/. 6d, net. 

Daily Chronicle.—^* Few, indeed, could be more fit to sing the dirge of that 'Virgil of 
Prose ' than the poet whose cuHosafelieiias is so close alun to Stevenson's own cmum.** 

GMe, — *'The opening Elegy on R. L. Stevenson includes some tender and touching 
passages, and has throughout the merits of sincerity and clearness." 

RUDYARD KIPLING : a Criticism. By Richard 
Lk Galuenne. With a Bibliography by John Lane. Crown 
8vo. 3/. 64/. net. 

Guardian. — " One of the cleverest pieces of criticism we have come across for a long time.*' 

Scotsman — " It shows a keen insignt into the essential qualities of literature, and analyses 

Mr. Kipling's product with the skill of a craftsman . . . the positive and outstanding 

merits of Mr. Kipling's contribution to the literature of his time are marshalled by his 

critic with quite uncommon skilL" 

POEMS. By Edward Cracroft Lefroy. With a 
Memoir by W. A. Gill, aod a Reprint of Mr. J. A. Symonds' 
Critical Essay on "Echoes from Theocritus." Photogravure 
Portrait. Crown 8vo. 5/. net. 

The Times,—" ... the leading features of the sonneu are the writer's intense sympathy 
with human life in general and with young life in particular ; his humour, his music, and, 
in a word, the quality which ' leaves a melody afloat upon the brain, a savour on the 
mental palate.' 

Bookman,— **Th» Memoir, by lifr. W. A. Gill, is a sympathetic sketch of an earnest and 
lovable character ; and the critical estimate, by J. Acidlngton Symonds, is a charmingly- 
written and suggestive essay." 


Leith. Demy 8vo. js. dd, net. 

%• The book, wkiek is largely autobiogrmpkiceU, describee the effect ^diffidence upcn 
em individual life, and contains, with a consideration of the nature of shyness, apUafor 
a kindlier judgment of the imtetermie case. 

Daily Mail—" Mr. Leith has written a very beautiful book, and perhaps the publishar's 
L^ claim that this will be a new classic is not too bold." 

Digitized by 



H. W. Nevinson. Crown 8vo. 5/. net. 

Daify CkrvmicU.'-" It is a remarkable thing and probably uniqiie, that a writer <^ aach 
personality as the attthor of ' Between the Acts ' shoald not only feel, bat boldly pat 
on paper, his homage and complete subjection to the genins of one aiter anotfaer of 
these men. He is entirely free from that one common Wrtoe of cntlcs, wfaich is 
superiority to the author criticised." 

OTIA : Essays. By Armine Thomas Kent. Crown 
8vo, 5/. net. 

BOOKS AND PLAYS : A Volume of Essays on 

Meredithy Borrow, Ibeen, and others. By Alum Monkhouse. 
Crown 8vo. 5/. net. 

LIBER AMORIS ; or. The New Pygmalion. 
By William Hazutt. Edited^ with an introduction, by Richard 
Le Gallienne. To which is added an exact transcript of the 
original MS., Mrs. Hasditt's Diary in Scotland, and Letters never 
before published. Portrait after Bewick, and facsimile Letters. 
400 copies only. 4to. 364 pp. Buckram. 21/. net. 

TERRORS OF THE LAW : being the Portraits 

of Three Lawyers — the original Weir of Hermiston, ** Bloody 
Jeffreys," and " Bluidy Advocate Mackenzie." By Franos 
Watt. With 3 Photogravure Portraits. Fcap. 8vo. 41. 6^/. net. 

Thg Literary iy^rM.—*'The book u altogether entertaining; it is brisk, lively, and 
effectiTe. Mr. Watt has already, in his two series of ' The Law's Lumber Room,* 
established his place as an essayist in l^;al lore, and the present book will increase h^ 


Men-of-War in the Days that Helped to make the Empire. By 
Edward Eraser. With 16 Full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 

*»* Jlfr. Fraser takes in the whole range ef our ITatf/s story* First there is the story 
of the ** Dreadnought^* told for the first time : how the name was origrnalfy seiecfeat Syr 
Elvusbetht why she chose it, the launch^ how under Drake she /ought against tJU 
Armadat how her captain was knighted on the guarter-deck in the presence ^ the enemry. 
From this point the name is traced down to the present leviathan which bears it. This is 
but one of the "champions" dealt with in Mr. Fraset's volume, which is iliusimie^ ky 
tome very interesting reproductions. 

The LONDONS of the British Fleet : The 
Story of Ships bearing the name of Old Renown in Na^al 
Annals. By Edward Eraser. With 8 Illustrations in colours, 
and 20 in black and white. 


Digitized by 




Being the Diary Illustrative of the Times of 
George IV. Edited with Introduction by 
Francis Stbuart. Demy 8vo. 2is« net. 


Ouilo9k : — ** Many admirable and fascinating illustrations add 
charm to a book which will provide much entertainment to the 
lovers of reminiscences." 

Daiiy Tekgraph : — '^ . . . beautifully printed and elaborately 
illustrated, in two comely volumes^ which will, no doubt, set the 
town talking again^ as they talked seventy years ago . . . with 
much that is painfiil and unprofitable, this frank and vivacious 
diary conuins even more that is tender and true. Its rehabiliu- 
tion, after many years of oblivion, is a task upon which editor and 
publisher are likely to be heartily congratulated." 

fFestminster Gazitu : — ^^ Not easily surpassed for the variety of 
its interests, from that of the purely human pomt of view to that 
of high politics and all the elements which together give to each 
Monarch and his Court an individual stamp.'* 

Dmly Graphic : — ^^'This Diary gives, what no other does, an 
account of the curious and undignified Court of Caroline 
Princess of Wales at home and abroad.*' 

Daify Niws : — ** We may say that there is nothing of the mere 
* scandalous chronicle' about this book, and that it helps one 
vividly to realise the almost absurd tragedy of one of the most un- 
fortunate of English Queens and its charmless setting." 

MoMeiesttr C9uriir :— ** The Diary is a book to possess, bx it is a 
veriuble slice of life rendered still more animated by a score of 
beautiful portraits of the distinguished personages who engaged 
the attention of Europe during the early part of the Nineteenth 

Digitized by 


A Queen of Indiscretions 


Translated from the Italian of G. P. CLERICI 


Demy 8vo« 21s. net. 

IFcstfMfwIcr {roarMr.— "Tbevohinie, Mholarly and well inforaMd, fooM 
one long and absorbingly intoefting cbapCer of the ekromiftu imndaitmrn^l 
Comt ufe . . . tbe story of this 'Queen of Indlsaetions' rands Ijbt a 
rataance, except that no roaaaacer woNild care or dare to pack bis | 
daaely with startling effisets and Jaataatic soenes." 

nsMt.— " . . . Two great merit s tea lly new material and a 1 
Ustoriealmfaid . . . SignorOerici baa bEoaghtto hjstaskiauaam 
hiddity, and an impartiality of oiind which does not prevent a definiia view 
from emerging . . . Mr. Chapman has done his translation admlrabty weA, 
aad bis own introducdon is a earefiil a iristance to tbofoogbaesk" 

G«anlM«.— "There is a great deal that is new and stiD more that is 
Interesting in ' A Queen of Indiscretions,' which may fairly be descrilwd as 
the joint prodndioo of Mr. Ftrederie Chapman and Sigaor Grariano CkricL 
• • • Mr. Chapman's introdoetion is exoeuent reading. 

' Mr. Chapmaa fbrntshea tba Italian workwitb a loog i 
i not less interestmg or instnicdfe than Prolisssor Clerici's own stady. 
y«ft tending, nevertheless, to support a conviction of the Queen's innoeenoe.^ 

G/aAt.^" Mr. FYederic Ch^Mnaa has pefformad admirably bis duty as a 

Dttiiv Tebgra^-^'* Mr. Chapman oontribates an nncomamnly ibll ai 
weU4nformed introducdon to supplement and explain the ItaBaa originaL** 

Marmmg Patt^^** P ro f e s sor dsrid's booit sod Mir. Cbapman^s iau udta ai u n 
will stand as the moat complete inquiry into Caroline*s afiMcs that baa yvi 

i published." 

i^fsdinpiy.—" This sumptuous vofaune • . . CaroUae's Ufa i 

Ing romance . . . Mr. Chapman especiallv lends coloor to her ad ventu re s in 

bis clever introduction bv ibe way in which be shows how, for all her genios 
for mischief and for all her tricks and wantonness, GaroKne never loat m 
cviouB charm which made her bnoyaacy aad reoklsai spirit laeable lo tlie 

Birmit^am P&st^**A full record of aperiodof her 
studied so painstakingly as Professor Qerid.'* 

■le aoAHUMnan nas 

Digitized by 


Digitized by 


lib be 

be k. 

TOvi^ 202 Main Library 642-3403 



1 -month loans may be renewed by calling 642-3405 

6-month loans may be recharged by bringing books to Circulation Desk 

Renewals and recharges moy be made 4 days prior to due date 


JAM 1 - ^ 1977 

nEC.Cl ( t.SE? ^'' t^ 

N'JV 1 19'9 



•^TOCEIVED u' : 

SEP 1 4 1984 




"^ BERKELEY, CA 94720 

Digitized by 


YC 2o4Ub 

•*-,v.' *,' 

i^:\ ^i ': P'-i^ 


Digitized by